Aftermath
by FyreBrande
Summary: After the defeat of the archdemon. Warning: contains angst, tragedy, and Anora . T-rated for safety. Characters and universe don't belong to me. Now complete.
1. One Night

_"Wait, this is crazy!"  
"Sanest thing I've ever done."_

I try to place the voices as they ricochet around my skull, try to figure out why hearing them echo like this feels like having Zevran's dagger rammed through my heart over and over again. I can't. They sound familiar, but I don't know why, so I give up and relax in the liquid darkness surrounding me.

* * *

"Will she be alright?"

"She should be," Wynne assured the red-haired bard. Leliana visibly relaxed. She had been forced to spend the last day pacing a nearby room as she waited to find out if the Grey Warden would survive, frantic prayers spilling out to the Maker. "You know, dear, I could use some help, if you're able."

The rogue's eyes brightened. "Of course. What can I do?"

"Could you go see if you can find more bandages? She keeps thrashing around and reopening the wounds." Leliana nodded and went in search of what was one of the rarest commodities at the moment. There were so many wounded after the last battle against the archdemon. Wynne watched her leave before turning back to her patient. "I don't know how happy you'll be about living," she murmured.

* * *

Every last centimeter of my body is on fire. I want nothing more than to call for Alistair, playfully demand a massage, just to watch his eyes light up. But since my head aches so atrociously that even whispering would be too painful, I settle for a groan and hope he's close enough to hear me. We must have been in one nasty battle for me to hurt so badly.

"Zerahna?" That voice...that's not Alistair. Even if it wasn't feminine rather then his deep, beautiful, masculine tone, he never calls me by my whole name. To him--and almost everyone else--I'm Rahna. Have been since planting Soris' face in the mud when we were children for using the whole name. The only person who insists on calling me Zerahna is...Wynne. Now I'm confused. Where's Alistair? What's Wynne doing in my tent? What in Andraste's name is going on??

I finally manage to fight back the pain long enough to pry my eyes open. Or at least the right one. "Wynne?" The voice doesn't sound like mine, not even vaguely.

"Shh. " She rests one hand on my shoulder, gently forestalling my attempt to prop myself up some. "You'll tear open your wounds again."

"What... happened?" I raise one hand--which is far more exhausting than it should be--to feel the left side of my face. It's covered by rough-edged bandages.

"You don't remember?" Wynne frowns.

"Re...remember what?" Now I'm really getting nervous. Leliana, who I hadn't noticed standing behind Wynne, slips out with a quiet murmur about finding the dog and making sure he hadn't gotten in the kitchen. That's when I notice that we're not in tents, we're in a building. But I don't really care at the moment. There's only one thing on my mind. "Where's Alistair?" I want to know why the man who loves me isn't hovering over me, like I know he would do.

Wynne answers my question with a question. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"The archdemon attacked Denerim. We had to turn from...Redcliffe to go fight it. Did we get attacked on the way or something?" I hate the big, looming empty place in my memory.

"No. We made it to Denerim, fought the archdemon, defeated it."

"So what happened to me? And where's Alistair?" If she doesn't tell me this time, I will shake the answer from her if it kills me.

"Alistair...killed the archdemon." She's trying to break it to me gently, but there is no gentle way to tell someone something like this. "He sacrificed himself."

Disbelief socks me in the gut hard enough that, were I standing, I would double up with agony. "Why didn't I stop him?" Why did I let him do it? Why, why, why?

"He wouldn't let you. Besides, you were already weak from your wounds, you couldn't have stopped him, no matter how badly you wanted to."

I don't believe this. I can't. Alistair's...dead? He can't be! That's the whole reason I let Anora keep her throne; so Alistair and I could be together and rebuild the Grey Wardens. He _can't_ be dead! The memory of Morrigan's offer dances through my mind, and suddenly I realize--far, far too late--that one night wouldn't have been so horrible. Just one night. But I said no. I told her I couldn't do that, no matter good of a friend she was. And now Alistair is dead because I was so selfish. I'll never have another night with him again.

It almost serves me right. But he didn't deserve to die. He could have done so much, for the Grey Wardens, for Ferelden. What's one elf in the scheme of things? That's all I am.

Suddenly the words that echoed in my skull earlier return. How could he think this was the sanest thing he's ever done? What sane person would make someone they love endure this? I want to rage, scream, throw something. But it would hurt too much. I turn to Wynne. "Could...could I be alone?"

"Of course." She leaves, pulling the door closed behind her. Then the tears come. I've never cried so hard. Not when my mother died, not when Vaughan's guards killed Nola and Nelaros, not even after Ostagar. "Just one night," I whisper to the ceiling. "One night." Funny how loaded those two common little words are. Had I let Morrigan have him for one night when she asked I wouldn't be staring down the bitter reality of spending every night without him. But even beyond that, one night's battle took him from me. I should have left him behind. I should have taken Sten, or Oghren...or even the dog. But then I would be dead.

I cautiously sit up in bed, hissing as the pain latches on to me again, and lean forward to rest my head in my hands. Something catches my eye and stops me, a gleam of silver on the table by the bed. I reach for it, the deep wound in my arm making me clumsy, and pull it close so I can see it with my one good eye. It's an amulet, decorated with Andraste's holy symbol. And a dozen hairline-thin cracks. My breath hitches in my throat as I realize what this is.

This isn't just _an_ amulet. It's _his_ amulet. The one that was his mother's, the one I found in the arl's desk. "Alistair..." I whisper hoarsely, my heart seizing with grief just saying his name. It's hard to tell which hurts worse; my heart or the eight-inch gash I just realized I have along my ribcage. I curl my fingers around the amulet and lay back down, losing myself in sleep, letting that stop the physical pain and hoping it stops the emotional, too.

* * *

Wynne cracked the door open slowly to keep it from creaking. Zerahna was asleep again, and the mage wanted it to stay that way. The poor girl needed rest. She was wounded, had lost a lot of blood, and the man she loved on top of that. Wynne had been afraid something like this would happen. She had watched the two Grey Wardens fall in love with growing trepidation, had even spoken to Zerahna about it. She had warned the young elf of what could happen, cautioned her that Alistair would love her with his whole heart and she shouldn't hurt him, reminded her that for Grey Wardens, duty came first.

She had wondered if she was mistaken when she saw the way Alistair looked at their leader. The absolute adoration in his eyes surprised her. And when Zerahna looked at him the same way, Wynne knew her advice would fall by the wayside. And it was alright. The happiness, the contented expression on Alistair's face--and Zerahna's--convinced her she had been wrong; it was good for them to grab whatever happiness they could while they could.

And then came the last battle. The one day that had turned life upside down for the elf curled up in the bed. When both love and duty demanded the same thing from Alistair: kill the archdemon. Duty demanded he do it to end the Blight. Love demanded he do it to save Zerahna. Wynne had watched his face as he kissed the elf one last time before plunging toward his death with unwavering determination. She would never forget the look in his eyes. The sorrow, mingled with relief his Rahna wouldn't have to die... "If only you could remember those last moments," the mage whispered to the huddled figure on the bed, smoothing the tangled sheets and taking in the agony that twisted her face even in sleep.

* * *

"_Wait. Let me. There's no need for you to die. This is my duty. I should be the one to kill it." The shock of hearing him say that fills my ears with a roaring that blocks out some of the conversation, I know I'm protesting, he's insisting, but my mind is so busy trying to find a way to kill this monster that doesn't involve one of us dying I miss the exact words. If one of us sacrifices ourself it should be me. He could do so much, he's so much more important than a single city elf. And I'm already so badly injured. _

_"That's not the only reason and you know it." I'm calling his bluff about something, I just can't remember what. The desperation building in my chest has my heart pounding, causing my wounds to bleed even more heavily. I wince and fight off a dizzy spell. Not now!_

_I have never seen anyone, human, elf, or dwarf look so incredibly broken as he does as he concedes, "You're right. I know how I feel about you. I won't let you die, not when I can do something about it."_

_He's really going to do this. He's really going to leave me. He's really going to die. My fingers reach out to clutch his armor, the wave of pain a mere footnote to my desperate desire to not lose him. "Wait, this is crazy!"_

_He smiles the saddest smile I've ever seen. "Sanest thing I've ever done," he says softly, pulling me close for one last kiss, regardless of the blood coating half of my face from a wound inflicted by one of the archdemon's claws. It's the sweetest, longest, shortest six seconds of my life. Suddenly I wish I had agreed to Morrigan's repulsive offer. As I savor the kiss, he pulls away far, far too soon. With on last look that bores straight down to my soul, he turns and charges across the tower roof, snatching a greatsword from the carcass of a dead darkspawn as hurtles past. The archdemon rears its head, roaring at him as he pounds toward it. He buries the sword's blade in its flesh, dragging it the length of the archdemon's neck. It spasms, flinging blood, spattering his face and armor as it collapses to the roof. Breathing heavily, face set in flint-hard determination to go through with this, Alistair raises the sword above his head and plunges it into the archdemon's head. _

_His wordless, raging cry echoes in my ears as Wynne and I watch him writhe, hands locked in a literal death grip on the hilt. I can almost hear his rage at the hand the Maker's dealt us, his sorrow at doing this to me, his fierce desire to protect me, pay me back for all the times I saved his skin in that death cry. This isn't fair, it isn't right! But I can't stop him. I can barely stand, and he knew it. So I watch him convulse as the soul of the archdemon drags him into death with it_. _Finally, the struggle is too much, and an explosion racks the roof, flinging Wynne __and me off our feet. My head smacks the stone and the world spins into pure darkness._


	2. The Only Grey Warden

2. The Only Grey Warden

My eyes snap open. That wasn't what I had in mind. I want to forget the pain. Not relive what is the worst moment of my life. _Oh, Maker._ I don't know whether to be relieved or frustrated that I can't remember the whole conversation. Part of me thinks it would just hurt worse, but the rest of me wants to remember everything I can about him. At least my body doesn't hurt so badly now. The pain is a dull, throbbing ache rather than a constant feeling that daggers are being plunged into me.

"You can come in," I call in response to the quiet knock on the door.

Leliana leans in the room. "Did I wake you?"

"No. You can come in if you want," I repeat. She does, slowly, as if she wants to be both here and as far away as possible at the same time. I briefly wonder whether Wynne or Zevran filled her in on what happened. "Did you need something?"

She sits on the stool next to the bed. "I was just checking on you. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Thank you. I appreciate you concern. I don't hurt so badly now. You can tell Wynne whatever she did worked."

"She'll be glad to hear that." We sit and let the silence stretch out, piling minute on minute. "Anora asked about you."

My heart twinges. Thinking about Anora only brings to mind the relief on Alistair's face when I assured him I wouldn't make him be king if he didn't want to be. "What did she want?"

"She wanted to know when you will feel well enough to attend a ceremony to celebrate the end of the Blight." Leliana looks sheepish as she tells me.

"Even if I'm physically up to it within the next couple days, my heart couldn't take it so soon after...after what he did," I protest. The gall of that...that _bitch_, wanting me to attend a celebration less than a week after watching the man I love die. I don't feel like celebrating. Probably won't ever feel like it again.

"Well, Wynne told her the same thing. I think all she heard was 'a couple days'. Middle of next week Anora plans to hold a celebration." Leliana's expression has morphed into being apologetic. "She wants you to be there, if you can."

I'm going to rip off the queen's perfect braids and strangle her with them. "We'll see." No promises. I may have died of a broken heart by that time. "Tell her I will do my best to be there. Because it's my duty as the only Grey Warden in Ferelden." The phrase goes clean through my heart. 'The only Grey Warden in Ferelden'. No, I'm not doing this. I will _not_. Hard as I fight the tears still come. I rub my thumb over the surface of the amulet, which I'm still clutching in my right hand. I pry my fingers off and set it back on the table by the bed. I swipe clumsily at the tears. Leliana wraps her arm around my shoulders and just sits with me and lets me cry.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Anora pauses in the doorway.

"No," I say, hurriedly wiping any sign of my broken heart off my face. I'm lying. She_ is_ interrupting: a perfectly good crying jag. But duty comes before emotion, as I've had ruthlessly proven to me recently, and my duty is to accommodate the Queen of Ferelden. Even if I really wish she--along with Goldanna--would get dragged kicking and screaming to the Deep Roads and turned into a broodmother. Then again, I'll settle for dismemberment, even if it isn't Tuesday. Last thing we need is more darkspawn. Especially from her.

"I wanted to see how you were doing." She crosses the room and stands by the bed.

"Leliana told me you had asked," I reply politely, dying inside. "I appreciate the concern."

"Did she also tell you I would like to have a ceremony to commemorate the defeat of the archdemon?" Her all-important bloody celebration. Call it what it is, Queenie; a chance to impress your public.

"Yes. I'll attend if I'm able, but I don't know how long it will be before I can manage to stand, let alone walk." I don't know if my heart will ever be able to take hearing about Alistair's sacrifice without aching.

"Well, I have the preparations in motion for sometime next week. Do you think you would be able by then?" She's pushing, deliberately. She needs to know if I will dance like a puppet for her, make myself heal faster to meet her timetable.

"I really don't know, your majesty." Maker, I hate this woman. What was I thinking, giving her the throne? Oh, right, I was thinking about my happy ending with Alistair, where we ride off into the sunset and rebuild the Grey Wardens. So much for that plan. "You would have to ask Wynne. She'll know better than I would."

"Very well, I shall. Oh, and you should be thinking about what boon you would like. I owe you something. You can tell me at the ceremony." With that, Anora sweeps out of the room.

"What I want you can never give me," I whisper as the door closes behind her. Leliana gives me a gentle squeeze. She's been such a good friend since we met in Lothering. Even when I let her down--as gently as I possibly could have--about any potential relationship, she accepted it with her usual grace and acted as if nothing happened. If I wasn't mistaken, she was making eyes at Zevran for a while. Maker only knows if _that_ went anywhere.

"Will you be alright?" she asks me. I nod. "I'm going to go get Wynne. She wanted to be told when you woke up. She wants to talk to you."

I wonder what she wants to talk about as I watch Leliana leave. Despite the stiffness in my arms, I reach up and drape the amulet's chain around my neck. If I can't have _him, _at least I can have a piece of him. I give the pendant a squeeze. His shock I had actually been paying attention when he told me about it told me more about him than anything else could have. He was used to being ignored. He was used to no one caring what he wanted. He was used to not mattering. I was the first one who cared. I was the first one to find out what he wanted, to ask for his advice, to like him for who he was, to not let the whole "bastard prince" issue color our relationship.

Hence his laying into Goldanna when she called me a gold digger. That warmed my heart like nothing else. I'd watched him shrink inside his armor, like plant browbeaten by a shrieking windstorm, while that shrew berated him for things he hadn't even known about, was in no way responsible for, and was incapable of fixing. And then she insulted me. _"Who are you? Some tart followin' him around for his money?"_ Oh, Maker, I've never felt more loved than I did when his spine snapped straight and he barked out, "Don't talk to her like that!" in a tone that was _commanding_, not asking, her to comply. Yes, I loved it when he gave me the rose, and called me beautiful, and when he said he loved me, but to know he would defend my honor the same way he defended my back on the battlefield meant more than any number of roses or 'I love you's ever could. Maybe some women would prefer the flowers, but for an elf who has only ever been slapped and insulted by humans, to have one defend me like that meant more than the world.

Which makes what he did hurt even more. I know he didn't want me to die, and that--thanks to me--there was no other option then one of us dying. It still hurts worse than anything I've ever experienced.


	3. Time Will Tell

3. Time Will Tell

Wynne enters while I am lost in these memories. I reluctantly turned my attention from the image of his face to her. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"This celebration the queen is planning." My spine stiffens at the mere mention of it. "Now, Zerahna, you know you will have to be there."

"Because it's my duty," I spit bitterly. "No other reason. What do I have to celebrate?" My voice breaks and sinks to a whisper at the end of the question. "Without him, I mean. But you didn't come to listen to me complain. " I look at her expectantly.

"I just wanted to tell you if you take it easy, stay in bed, and keep healing at the same rate you have so far, you should be able to attend. A bit stiff, perhaps, but you can still be present for her to congratulate." There's a look in her eye that says she's not entirely happy with the idea of this commemoration ceremony either. Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks the queen just wants to grandstand in front of her subjects.

"So none of my injuries are life-threatening?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," Wynne replies with motherly sternness. "I know you miss him, but there are some people here who would deeply mourn you, were you to die."

"I know. That's not what I meant. Leliana said some things that made me think you were very worried about my chances."

"I was, dear. You lost a lot of blood, and a couple of the wounds were very deep, which means an increased risk for infection. The one along your ribcage is shallow, and the gash on your leg barely broke the skin. Those don't concern me. But your arm and face...those are deeper. Your arm was lacerated down to the bone," she explains gently, "And the way the demon's claw caught your face...well, it will definitely scar, that much I can tell now."

"Did it catch my eye? Am I going to be half blind?" I'm already wondering how much I'm going to have to adjust my technique with my swords, should I ever need them again.

"I don't know. Time will tell. It's too early to know for sure." The sun glints off the amulet and catches her eye. "Zerahna..."

"It's all I have of him," I protest, curling stiff fingers around the pendant. "Why shouldn't I wear it?"

She sighs. "I...never mind. Do you need anything?"

"Company. I'll go crazy if I have to sit in here alone." I try to smile, but between my aching face and aching heart, it doesn't last long.

"I'll see if I can find Leliana." Wynne moves toward the door.

"Thank you. I'll try not to be so cantankerous later on, I promise. Too much of me hurts right now to be civil." This smile is genuine, and lasts a bit longer.

"I understand, dear." Wynne smiles comfortingly at me as she slips out the door. Somehow, I think there's more to that statement than just the mere words. She really _does_ understand. I try to remember that as an echo buzzes out from past to present.

* * *

_"Before we go, did I tell you I love you? I did? Well, It won't kill you to hear it again, will it?"_

_"I love you, too."_

_"See? Was that so hard?"_

No. Not at all.

* * *

It takes Leliana long enough to show up that I've resorted to counting cracks in the walls and ceiling of my room to avoid the memories. I'm up to one hundred and eighty six when the door swings halfway open and Leliana creeps in. "Sorry."

"'Bout what?" I murmur, trying to reach two hundred before I stop counting.

"How long I was in coming. Some of the servants wanted to hear a story while they were off-duty."

I can't help but smile. "And you couldn't resist the opportunity to tell one. Which was it? Flemeth? Aveline? Andraste and her task from the Maker?" I raise my eyebrow, smile widening as she blushes slightly. I know which one now.

"Aveline," she confesses. "You already guessed that though, did you not?"

"Of course. You tell that story every chance you get." I must have heard it four or five times. The first time was when she actually told it to me, but I also overheard her telling it to Zevran, Sten, and Alistair. Sten was unimpressed. Zevran looked like he was imagining what it would be like to bed her. Alistair...Alistair looked much the way I had felt when Leliana first told me: enthralled by the story, and shocked by the ending. We both had been hoping for a happy ending, conveniently forgetting that happy endings rarely happen in real life. If either of us had known then how tragically _our_ story would end, I doubt Aveline's would have seemed so horrible.

But I don't want to think about that right now. I'm trying to get better, not drive myself into the depths of despair to sicken and die. So I ask Leliana for a story. "A happy one. And _not_ a love story."

"But--" she cuts herself off, shakes her head as is reminding herself what I've just gone through and what a love story would do to me. "Alright, I think I know one or two."

"That's all?"

"That are happy and yet not love stories? Yes. A bard's living is made off catering off what people like to hear. They are either happy love stories, tragic love stories, tragedies, like Aveline, or legends like Flemeth." She shrugs. "I have one I can tell you."

"Alright." My back is getting tight from sitting up, so I lean back to listen as she begins.

This is how I spend the next few days. Wynne checks my wounds to make sure they're healing properly, re-bandages them, makes me eat something, and then Leliana tells me Zevran's latest escapade, usually involving some servant girl or barmaid and a complete absence of clothing, or who Oghren drank under the table the night before, or what the dog did. Entertaining as that is, and despite the number of people who manage to sneak into my room to thank me--some familiar, some not--by the fourth morning since I first woke up, I'm bored out of my skull. I make an executive decision, fueled more by boredom than common sense: I'm well enough to get up. I need to walk around a bit. I know both Wynne and Leliana would disagree with me on that point--and that they would be right--so I wait until they both think I'm asleep to make my move. The loose pants and even looser tunic are far lighter than the armor I'm used to wearing, and my leg only hurts the slightest bit as I make my way stealthily down the hallway.

"I must say, my dear minx, Wynne has let you out of your room far sooner than I expected her to." The smooth voice makes me jump, even though I recognize it as easily as my own. Zevran laughs at my startled expression.

"What are you doing?" I hiss. His presence here is a little too convenient.

He shrugs. "Watching to make sure no one gets in your room except those who are supposed to be in there. Now, if I may ask, what are _you_ doing? I was under the impression our dear Wynne wanted you to stay in bed another few days, no?"

"Zev, I need to get out of there. Please don't tell on me," I plead. "If I have to stare at that ceiling one more minute I will snap."

"Well, since we can't have the last of the Grey Warden going crazy before she has a chance to rebuild the order, I shall keep your secret." He winks at me, but I miss it as the casual way in which he says 'last of the Grey Wardens' cuts to my heart. It takes everything in me to not lay into him for saying that. He doesn't know how badly it hurts me or he wouldn't have said it, I'm certain of that.

"Thank you," I manage, leaning against the wall.

"Rahna?" Concern shows on his face as he steps toward me, but I shake my head.

"I'm alright. Physically at least," I amend, so that it's not a lie. "None of my wounds hurt."

"And what about your heart?" Damn him, that elf is perceptive.

"Time will tell," I reply diplomatically, trying to smile.

"How is it right _now_?" He leans close as he asks, and were I not still grieving Alistair, I'm sure my heart would have quicken. "I know it hurts, no?"

The memory of Alistair leaning close like this assaults me, and all I can manage is a strangled sob.

Zevran seems to make up his mind about something when he hears the pitiful noise I expect to serve as a reply. "Come, my dear Warden. There is something you need to see." He takes my hand. My breath catches. His hand fits better than Alistair's did. Probably because Zev's an elf, and Alistair wasn't. He leads me down to a room in the cellar. "You need to go in alone, I am sure." There is no trace of a smile on his face. "If you need me for anything, just call." With a roguish wink he vanishes.

I look at the door in front of me, the one Zev wants me to go through by myself. I have an idea what's in there. Oh, Maker, if I'm right, I don't know if I _want_ to do this. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open. I gulp hard to stop the sobs in my throat as I'm proven right. I'm looking at my darkest nightmare. I'm looking at reality.

I'm looking at Alistair.


	4. Familiar Face

4. Familiar Face

It takes everything in me to not bolt from the room or dissolve in tears. I stare at his body, frozen to the floor, wanting to stay and leave with the same fervency. Finally, I can't resist anymore and take an agonizing step toward him. One hand extends as I draw near, until my fingertips are resting lightly against the battered Warden-Commander armor. I feel a tear start down one cheek, but let it fall. Who's going to blame me?

"Alistair..." It comes out in a desperate whisper that sounds nothing like my normal voice. I can't think. At all. I keep expecting him to sit up and make a joke, say something so sweet my knees melt. But he won't. My brain seems to freeze as I take in that absolute reality: Alistair. Is. Dead. He is gone forever, will never make me laugh, or melt, or grin, or giggle ever again.

The dam finally caves to the overwhelming pressure and more tears than I can number race down my cheeks. My knees buckle and I hit the ground hard, the spike of pain shooting up my side all that keeps me from passing out. I kneel there, sobbing, clutching his hand, whimpering his name over and over as reality resets itself in my grief-crazed mind. The tears slow, then stop, but I stay kneeling by his side, finger intertwined with his, forehead resting against his chest.

"I'm sorry, my love. So, so sorry." I've been wanting to vocalize that for days. "It's my fault. I should have accepted Morrigan's offer. I should have left you behind. There's so much you could have done, you weren't supposed to die. It was supposed to be _me_." I kneel a few seconds longer, as if doing penance for my guilt at an altar. Finally the feeling of guilt fades, if only a little, and I stand. When I look at his face, the expression of...contentment does something for my heart. In a good way. He died saving me, and everyone else, so he's entitled to the peace written on his features. I brush the fingers of my free hand along his face, feeling the bittersweet mix of love and pain Wynne warned me might be the result of our relationship. I lean over and kiss his cold cheek. "Goodbye, my love." I know he's dead, he can't feel it, can't hear me, but it does me some good. It's a more satisfactory goodbye at any rate than what we shared on the roof of Fort Drakon. I'm still bending over him when I hear the door creak slightly, and then a very familiar and much missed voice speaks behind me.

"Cousin?"

I spin around and feel a genuine smile spread across my face. "Soris!" I fling myself toward him and throw my arms around his neck, ignoring the protest issuing from my injured arm as I do so. "I've missed you!"

He laughs. "And I you, Cousin." When I finally pull back he grins and tugs gently on the bandage crossing my left eye. "Decided to turn pirate, did we, Rahna?"

"Only temporarily," I assure him with a matching grin. "How's Valora?"

"She's fine. Glad I took your advice to be a little more optimistic about her. She's really an incredible woman. She didn't slay an archdemon," he nudges me playfully, "but she's smart, and she cares about everyone. And she has so many ideas about how to make life better."

"Well, I didn't exactly kill the archdemon either. If you want to get really technical about it," I confess, then motion toward Alistair. "He did."

Soris looks at me in confusion. "Care to explain?"

"Come back up to my room. I'll fill you in." I lead him back upstairs, pulling the door closed behind me as we leave.

* * *

When we reach my room, Wynne is waiting for me. I'm in for it now. "Where were you, young lady?"

"With Alistair." The reply catches her off guard, I can tell.

"How did you--" she begins, but I cut her off.

"Zevran took me down there. He caught me in the act of escaping, so don't be mad at him," I intercede. "And I needed to do it, Wynne. I needed a better goodbye, and a chance to really accept reality. It...gave me closure." Closure like I didn't really get with Nelaros. Closure like Alistair so desperately needed when Duncan died.

"Well, then, I suppose I'll settle for a mild scolding for both of you." She smiles. "As long as you get back in that bed and don't budge until the day of the ceremony."

"Yes, ma'am," I reply dutifully as I obey. "Oh, this is my cousin, Soris. Soris, this is Wynne, one of my companions from my travels." They nod in greeting, and then Wynne leaves.

"So, fill me in, Cousin." Soris' expression makes me laugh. I've never known him to be so impatient.

"Give me a moment, for Andraste's sake!" I bite my lip and wiggle slightly lower, so that lump in the pillow is in a more comfortable spot. "Alright, now where did you want me to start? From the beginning, or just the last battle?"

He thinks for a second. "Start with when you saved my hide by taking all the blame for Vaughan, but you only have to give a detailed account of the last battle."

"As you wish." I start off with the journey to Ostagar with Duncan, go through everything, from the horrified rage that Loghain betrayed us, to watching Alistair execute that traitorous bastard at the Landsmeet and everything in between. If I glaze over how deeply I loved Alistair, it's only because the story is long enough as it is without including details like that.

But I can tell from the look in my cousin's eyes that he's on to me. I think the only person who could read me faster or more easily was Alistair. Even Shianni can't read me like Soris can. I come to the final battle, explain _why_ Grey Wardens are necessary to end a Blight, tell of Riordan's death and how he helped win the battle for us by forcing the archdemon to land, then trip over my words as they turn into sobs upon my attempting to talk about those last seconds of the fight. About Alistair's sacrifice. About my horror when I realized I couldn't stop him. About the emptiness in my heart when I woke here...without him. "It should have been me," I whisper to finish.

"You really believe that?"Soris is looking at me in incredulity. "Why?"

"Because he could have done so much more than I can! Because I was already so badly wounded I was getting dizzy from blood loss! Because...because..." My defense disintegrates back into sobs.

"Because you loved him and didn't want him to die," he finishes for me. I nod. "But if one of you had to die, how would you dying be any better?"

"I don't know!" I wail. Can't he just go away if all he's going to do is tell me things I already know? If all he's going to do is point out faults in my logic I'm going to kick him out.

"I think you do." From the expression on his face, I must look like he slapped me. "I didn't mean it like that, Rahna. I just..." he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "I'm going to shut up now."

"Good plan," I mutter. I really don't want to be mad at him, and he's getting way too close to some really tender issues.

"So, tell me about some of your other companions, aside from Wynne. Like the elf prowling the hallway. Or the qunari standing in the main hall. How in the world did you end up traveling with a qunari?"

I grin. "The elf is Zevran. He's an assassin who was sent to kill me. He experienced a change of heart when I tore through him, and decided to join with me instead."

Soris raises one eyebrow. "You really are trusting, you know that?"

"It may have been the 'deadly sex goddess' comment clouding my thinking, though I could tell Alistair didn't appreciate _that_." I have to laugh at the way Soris' mouth is hanging open. He looks so much like Alistair did upon my accepting Zev's offer I can't help myself. "All kidding aside, I couldn't have asked for a truer friend. He turned his back on the Crows for me, Soris."

"Mm-hm. Considering the 'deadly sex goddess' comment, are you sure friendship's all he's interested in?"

"Now, yes. I told him I loved Alistair and he stopped flirting with me every chance he got." A thought occurs to me, and not a happy one. "Oh, Maker's holy fire, I hope he doesn't start up again, now that Alistair's, um..." I still can't put those two words together, for some reason.

"I know." I will always love him for not making me finish that cursed sentence.

"Thanks. I...can't say it yet."

Soris smiles. "I know," he repeats. "Losing people you love never gets easier." He looks at the sun. "I need to be heading home. I promised Valora I'd run some errands for her, and if I want to make it home before she gets worried--"

"I understand." I look down at my ring. I wear it on my right hand, not my left, but my wedding ring has been on my finger the whole of my travels. Just to remember him, how he died trying to save me. Just like Alistair... "Say hello to Valora for me." I smile weakly. "I'm glad you came by, Soris. It was good to see a familiar face."

He smiles. "I'll see you around, Cousin." As the door closes behind him, I let myself shatter. _For Andraste's sake, it isn't _fair_!_ I know if my father were here, he would be telling me that life is rarely fair, especially to the elves. Maker forgive me, I don't care. I wanted a _happy _ending, not one marinated in tears and presented with a side of anguish.


	5. Invincible

5. Invincible

_"Alistair?"_

_"Yes, love?"_

_"Why do you love me?" I've been trying to figure out for days what this absolutely wonderful man could possibly see in me, and it's easier to ask when not looking in those beautiful amber eyes. He's not only human, he's half royalty. I, on the other hand, am an elf _and _a thief, for Maker's sake. We're lucky if we can get a job as a servant or laborer. Humans see us as dirt. What in Andraste's name makes him want me? I've seen the looks he gets from women. Human women. Proper women. I'm not blind. Short, sneaky, and--on occasion--conniving, but not blind._

_"Because you fit perfectly when we do this." He wraps his arms around me a little tighter and pulls me closer to his chest, the warmth of his skin soaking through my thin shift. _

_"Alistaaiir, I'm serious." I suppose you could describe my tone as pouting, which is probably cheating, but I want a serious answer for once._

_"You'd think I could figure out by now," he chuckles softly, then sighs and obligingly turns serious. "You...you make me feel invincible."_

_"What do you mean?" I play with the strap of my shift and make sure I don't look at him._

_"When we're in battle," he elaborates, burying his face in the back of my neck, breath tickling my skin, "I'll be running out of energy, or wondering how much longer I can keeps this up, and then I look over at you--," his voice drops to a husky whisper, "--and I feel I could take on every darkspawn in existence to protect you."_

_Were it any other person in Ferelden, I would be yowling loud enough to silence an alley full of cats that I can protect myself, thank you __**very**__ much. Several people have found that out the hard way. But the fact that he wants to keep me safe has me blushing furiously as a warm feeling I can't describe flares in my heart. It's more than just love, though that's definitely in there. I don't know what, exactly, it is, but I like it. I twist around in his arms and kiss him, one hand tangling in his hair._

_"And why, my dear, do you love me?" His tone is teasing as he poses my question back at me, but I have a feeling he's serious._

_"I love you, my dear knight in shining armor, because knowing you have my back, whether the enemy be darkspawn or that harridan who calls herself your half sister, knowing I make you feel invincible, makes __**me**__ feel invincible." I grin at him. "And your cheese fetish is the cutest, most adorable thing I've ever seen in my life."_

_"Hey!" he protests, but only half-heartedly. I kiss him in an unnecessary act of apology. Passion flares, and we give in before falling asleep, holding each other close. _

* * *

I start awake and look around in bewilderment before remembering where I am. I look out the window at the sinking sliver of the moon before turning over in bed and watering the embroidered flowers that decorate the pillow case with more tears than even I would think I could cry at this point. It's been a whole week. My arm is the only thing that has yet to fully heal. Well, that and my heart. And despite all Wynne efforts with healing, both magical and not, I'll never see out of my left eye again. It looks normal, thank the Maker, except for the narrow scar alongside it, but sightless it shall remain the rest of my life. It seems morbidly appropriate that there be at least some outward scar since my heart feels like a wound, throbbing instead of beating. There needs to be evidence that my life was altered by that battle, more than anyone could possibly know.

I find it impossible to really go back to sleep, so I drop into a light doze, awaking with the slightest noise, resulting in the grumpiest mood I've ever been in my whole life. Even grumpier than the time Soris and Shianni tricked me into thinking my bedroom was haunted when we were little. Though, come to think of it, that kind of backfired on them. And Soris deserved that black eye. Scare me, will he? Shianni giggled so hard she gave the whole jig up at that point. Grumpy as I am, the memory still makes me smile.

And then I remember what today is. Anora's celebration. My smile vanishes as I collapse back in bed and bury my head under the pillow with a moan. I don't want to face Ferelden with a smile on my face when my heart is wondering if I'll ever really, truly smile--or even be happy--again. Maybe it will just all go away. Maybe I can just stay here, buried under my pillow, and they'll forget I exist.

"Rahna?"

So much for plan A. "What, Leli?" I slide the pillow halfway off my head.

"Do you want help getting ready?" She plays with the door handle, staring at the floor and not me as she asks.

I know she's just trying to be helpful, so I don't kick her out like I so badly want to do. "Since I _have_ to go, and my arm is still stiff, yes, I would appreciate your help getting ready." I try not to think of the fact it used to be Alistair helping me with my armor every morning.

"Alright." She crosses to the stand in the corner, removing the hardened leather armor from it almost reverently.

"Leli, I'm not a saint or something," I tease her, somehow managing to crack a half-smile. "I'm just Rahna the elf, who eats too much, sleeps too little, and steals cheese."

"I know." She smiles back, looking relieved. "I had to listen to more then one tirade when our cheese supply ran low."

"He ate too much of it anyway," I reply, raising my arms to slide on the breastplate. I don't say his name; we both know who I mean. My attempt to sound indignant fails, and I instead sound wistful.

"Rahna..." Leliana doesn't finish her sentence as she fastens the buckles for me.

I sigh and reach for the fingerless gloves and arm guards. "I'll move on, Leli. Eventually."

"Do you want to talk about him?" She wraps a length of muslin around my wounded arm before I pull on the gloves.

I think about turning her down, but who knows, maybe it'll help. "I...guess. I just...don't know where to start."

"What happened in Redcliffe that made Morrigan leave? Or what happened on Fort Drakon?" Guess that answers my question as to whether Wynne or Zev filled her in yet.

"Morrigan wanted me to convince Alistair to sleep with her so she would get pregnant and her child, since Alistair i--_was_ a Grey Warden--" _Maker, that hurt to say. "--_would be able absorb the archdemon's taint and survive. That way neither of us would have had to...die. I told her no way on the Maker's green earth would I agree to that. Our friendship wasn't that strong. She left." I stare at my hands. "Now I wish I'd said yes."

"You would have_ let_ him sleep with her?" Her incredulity is understandable; that was my first reaction, too.

"One night in exchange for every night?" I feel the tears coming as I tear open the not-quite-healed wound on my heart. "In half a heartbeat. I...wish I had known Riordan was going to die. I wish I had known it was going to hurt this bad," I sniffle. "I'd have said yes, talked him into it if I had to play the 'for me' card, spent the night crying but reminding myself I was saving his life. I _loved_ him, Leliana." My words gush out in an agonized torrent. "_Loved_ him. Heart and soul, I loved him, loved him, _**loved**_ him. And now, everything reminds me of him somehow. I'm going to be taunted by stupid things for the _rest _of my _life_. Like this." I point to a dent scoring across my left arm guard. "He was trying to protect me from an emissary in the Deep Roads, and his shield hit my arm. Or that scuff on the back of my boot. I stopped short and he walked into me in the Alienage, when I saw Shianni."

"Rahna--" Leliana tried to make me slow down, but by the Maker, she got me started, so she's going to hear all of it.

"I can't even look at a _garden_, for Andraste's sake, because it reminds me of that damn rose," I wail, near hysterics, impatiently brushing back my hair as the short golden-brown strands fall in my face.

"Wearing his amulet can't be helping matters," she points out, brushing a finger against the pendant.

I shake my head and clutch it instinctively. "It's like having a piece of him with me. It meant so much to him. It's actually the only thing that _does _help. Especially when I dream about him."

"Did you last night?"

I nod. "I dreamt about the night after we saved Eamon and were on our way to Orzammar. He...he told me I made him feel invincible." The tears increase in quantity, because he _wasn't_ invincible. "I'm sorry," I blubber. "This is getting ridiculous."

"I understand," Leliana says comfortingly, resting one hand on my shoulder, hesitating before she asks, "Rahna, if you had known it would end like this, would you still have fallen in love with him?"

I look at her like she's crazy, much the way I did when we first met. "Yes. There was a saying Valendrian used to repeat, something about it being better to have loved and lost than to never love at all. I have to agree. Badly as this hurts, much as I miss him, I don't regret falling in love. That feeling of being treasured, being _valuable_, makes this more than worth it. Love is worth the pain."

"Are you going to be alright today?"

"I can grit my teeth and smile with the best of them," I assure her, wiping away the tears. "No one will be able to tell I'm dying inside."

"Except for us."

"Except you," I agree. "Even Zevran seems to be genuinely sorry for me. He hasn't tried to get me in his bed once."

"Good. I'd hate to have to kill him for being insensitive." Leliana squeezes my shoulder. "Come on, let's see what we can do with your hair."


	6. Smile & Wave

6. Smile & Wave

Leliana somehow manages to coerce my pitifully short hair into some semblance of a 'style' before the ceremony begins. Were it not for my still-raw scar, the curls she managed to tease from it-combined with my height-would make me look like a child. Still, it doesn't look half bad, not that I care. I'm distracted by the fact that my arm already aches. I may have to loosen the buckles if it keeps swelling like this. Maybe Wynne can do something to help, I don't know. I finally give in and loosen the straps a notch.

As we approach the doors to the main hall of the palace, my stomach suddenly twists in five different kinds of knots. This isn't just nerves. Nerves is what I felt standing beside Nelaros when I thought I would be marrying him instead of avenging his death. Nerves is what I felt at the Landsmeet. Nerves is what I felt trying to convince Zathrian to end the werewolves' curse. This is full blown, crushing panic. The kind capable of stealing your breath and your mind as well. _I can't go in there! I can't face all those...those humans without him! Oh, Maker, I can't do this!_ I throw out my arm, feel the wall stop me from tumbling to the ground. Andraste's flaming sword, I cannot breathe! I can face a dragon ten or more times my size, but not this!

"Rahna? What's wrong?" Leliana kneels next to me, resting one hand on my back.

"I-I can't. I can't do this. Not without him. Can't," I whimper, shaking my head. I know I'm not acting the way most would expect one of Ferelden's greatest heroes to act, but the thought of facing a roomful of humans without Alistair to back me up terrifies me.

"Come, my dear. You can indeed do this." Zevran appears as if from nowhere and hauls me to my feet. He shakes my shoulders, settling my heart back into a slower and more normal rhythm. "We will help you, will we not?" I sense the look he shoots Leliana.

"Yes, of course." She takes my hand, and the two of them steady me for a moment before we enter. I want to throw up, pass out, run away, something. But I can't. I have to paste on a smile, wave to the crowd, and pretend I'm thrilled to be here. We join Wynne, Sten, and Oghren in the middle of the room. I don't want to let go of Zev or Leliana, but I have to. We stand together, those of us that remain, as Anora begins to address the crowd.

"My friends, we are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory," the Queen begins. "Alistair, the son of King Maric, and last of the Theirin bloodline, gave his life for us by slaying the mighty archdemon. But the one who led the battle against the darkspawn thankfully remains with us still."

_Wait, that's__** it**__? That's all she's going to say about him? He saved her whole sodding precious kingdom, and that's all the thanks she gives him?_ I feel righteous rage bubble up inside me as the queen shamelessly attempts to brush Alistair under the rug. I suppose even dead he threatens her day in the sun. Suddenly I know exactly what I want as my boon. I could ask for better living conditions for the elves, but Shianni can probably handle that all by herself. I could ask for money, land, a title, but none of that interests me. I drag my attention back to the moment and Anora's speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Hero of Ferelden, the first Grey Warden to defeat the Blight since Garahel, four centuries ago." My mind is racing as I make my way up the stairs. I know Alistair is really the one who defeated the Blight, I know I could never have done as much as I did without him. But Anora doesn't know that. I swallow all the bitter things I want to scream, about how she shouldn't even be on the throne, how we should be praising Alistair, not me, as I reach the top and stand by the queen while she addresses me in front of everyone. "Grey Warden, it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it is only appropriate that I return the favor." She smiles at me, and I'm suddenly aware that the sick feeling building in my gut is showing on my face. I paste on a smile, mirroring hers. "Is there any boon you might request of Ferelden's queen?"

"The sacrifices of the Wardens should not be forgotten again." It isn't what I really want to say, but it gets the point across, and sounds a lot more...I don't know, fitting to the circumstances than _'build Alistair a monument'_ would. I'll just force her to honor him, if I have to.

"An excellent point." She masks her emotions well, but I still saw the flicker of irritation brush across her face. "We can begin with a monument here in Denerim dedicated to Alistair and all the other Grey Wardens who fell to save us."

Wow. I didn't even have to badger that out of her. Maybe I'm letting my grief paint her in a harsher light-but then I remember how she turned on me at the Landsmeet, even though I told her I would support her. No, she's jut trying to appear generous and grateful to the man who saved her skin.

"We'll also collect scholars to learn more about the darkspawn. We'll face them again, here and with the dwarves." Anora turns to face the crowd. "Let it also be known that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, honoring the example of those who have gone before them."

_As if anyone could live up to Alistair's example._

"What are your plans? Will you remain with the Grey Wardens?" She's turned back to me and looks expectant.

Well, I'm the only Grey Warden in Ferelden. If I leave, there wouldn't be any Ferelden Wardens. Only Orlesians, and we can't have that, can we? And I have nothing better to do with myself now. Besides, the darkspawn are hardly going to form a neat and orderly line and march back to the Deep Roads now that the archdemon's dead. "The darkspawn are still a threat. The Grey Wardens need me."

She smiles, and it actually seems genuine. "I'm certain they will be relieved to know your intentions. There is a group of eager Ferelden citizens waiting outside to get a look at their hero. I suggest you make at least a brief appearance before they storm the gate," she chuckles. "Just tell the guard at the door when you're ready."

_Great. More humans. Can I pass on that?_ I know I can't. I have to get over this...anxiety around humans. Alistair is the only one who never made me nervous. Cailan's naiveté threw me off, and even Duncan had my guard up for half of the journey to Ostagar.

But enough of these thought. It's time to mingle with my adoring public. _Sodding wonderful_. However, I do think I saw my father in the crowd in the Landsmeet chamber. I would like to talk to him. And Zev and Leli. But I find my father first. I can't talk to him long; there are so many people who want a moment with the Hero of Ferelden.

I could scream at the top of my lungs that _Alistair_ is the real hero, not me, but no one would listen. I don't know if they would even care. But Alistair is the one who kept me going when I wanted to give up, Alistair is the one who made sure I didn't make a decision I would regret later, Alistair is the one who killed the archdemon. But I'm the one who led our band, and I'm the one still alive, so I'm the one who gets all the credit.

After speaking to my father as long as I can spare, I wander in search of my companions. I need to speak to someone from our group. Now. Leliana is busy discussing what sounds like details for an expedition to the Urn of Sacred Ashes, making sure pilgrims don't molest it too much, something like that. It sounds important, so I bypass her and make a beeline for Zevran, who is standing nearby.

He shifts restlessly as I greet him. "I will be relieved when all this pomp and ceremony is done," he admits. "Such events are perfect opportunities for assassins, after all. I can't help but expect the Crows to appear at any moment. Which would be a welcome break, mind you."

"Do you think the Crows will still come after you?" I can't believe they won't think he's dead. Even if the outcome of his original attempt didn't convince them, why wouldn't they assume he joined Taliesen and died with him in the back alley?

He shrugs. "Eventually. With Taliesen dead it may take them time to figure out what has happened...but they are like the tides. Predictable. You know, it does occur to me that staying in one place is only going to invite the Crows to find me that much quicker. While fun, that might eventually get...complicated. You said earlier that you were planning on returning to the Grey Warden fold soon. Is that true?" He sounds...hopeful.

"Why, are you thinking of joining?" I'm half serious, half joking. Somehow I can't see him as a Grey Warden.

Apparently neither can he. "A Grey Warden? Me? Oh, no, no, no," he laughs. "There are some bodily fluids even _I_ won't touch. The Grey Wardens seem to be a fun bunch to hang around however. Maybe they won't mind a resident assassin? I'm an excellent mascot."

"I'd be happy for the company." How can I turn him down, after all he's done to help me? Besides, it would get awful lonely to travel by myself. _I wish Alistair was still here to come with me... _Zevran's been a true friend, and I can see no reason I shouldn't keep trusting him. With the number of times he's passed up an opportunity to kill me, he's either trying to really earn my trust before stabbing me in the back or honestly my friend. I choose to believe the latter.

"And I promise not to get you into too much trouble," he teases. "Well...no more than you get me into, anyhow. Well then, since we're going to be leaving together, we can speak after you have been sufficiently paraded in front of the populace. Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on you and make sure no one gets a clear shot. Not without paying me a great deal of coin, anyhow." He winks at me, grinning. Traveling with him will be...interesting. I wonder how long he'll wait before trying to seduce me...again. He knows the reason I told him no before was being in love with Alistair. Unless I plan on loving a ghost my whole life-which doesn't sound half bad right now-he'll have a chance down the road. I brush aside those thoughts and cross the room to talk to Wynne.

" 'The Hero of Ferelden'. My, my. How does it feel?" she chuckles.

"It's a little strange," I admit. _Because I don't deserve it. Because normally humans would hardly even acknowledge my existence._

Wynne smiles warmly. "Of that I have no doubt. It's a title you'll be wearing for a long time to come. Just as Loghain wore his. But it's not so bad, is it? A Blight defeated with the other nations barely becoming aware. Who could ask for better?"

"I didn't do it on my own." Everyone helped, though some more than others.

"I don't think many heroes ever do. I'm glad not to be on the receiving end of all this attention, myself. Not that I've gone without notice. Irving asked me to take over as First Enchanter, but I don't wish to go back. Not after all this. Instead, I've decided to accept a position here at court. There has not been a mage advising the throne for a very long time."

Isn't she living on borrowed time? How much longer does she think she has? "What about...your problem?"

"It's true, I may not have very much time..." she concedes, "but perhaps there is a great deal of good I can do even so. I will try. I understand you will be leaving. I wish you good fortune on your journeys, wherever they may take you. If we do not see each other again... live well, Warden. And thank you."

"You're welcome." I speak to the others, wish Oghren luck in drinking a whole barrel of pickle juice to prove "that pot-belled son of a whore Teagan" wrong, ruffle my mabari's ears, speak to Sten, and then head for the doors. _Let's get this over with. Time to smile and wave again..._


	7. In Dreams

7. In Dreams

"_In dreams I can hear your name, and in dreams we will meet again_"

Zevran and I leave the next day. I guess we'll eventually make our way to Weisshaupt and see what the Wardens need me--us?--to do, but I'm in no hurry. It's slightly awkward at first, to be traveling alone with him, but when he hasn't said a word about us making love for going on two days I start to relax. I know he's probably just biding his time, but part of me likes the thought of him being sensitive to the fact the fight on the roof of Fort Drakon still haunts my dreams almost every night. Which leads to me taking watch duty far more often than he does. After a token protest when I took it for the third night in a row, I think he's resigned himself to this pattern.

"Tell me something, my dear," he asks one evening as we camp near the base of Dragon's Peak, "Are the dreams just as bad every night? Or has the edge started to dull, hmm?"

I shrug. "It still hurts more than anything I've ever experienced, if that's what you're wondering. I loved him, Zev. Losing someone like that is going to hurt for a very long time."

"Perhaps I could help you keep your mind off it some night?"

I glare daggers at him. "No. I've barely come to terms with him being dead. I am in no sodding way ready to move on." I could strangle that elf...

"All I meant, my dear, is we could talk. Or you could talk and I would be happy to listen to your gorgeous voice as long as you chose to speak."

"Oh." I feel my face start to color.

"Though I do wonder why you immediately jump to _that_ conclusion as to my methods of occupying your thoughts." He smiles innocently at me. "Could it be you need a... release? A massage, perhaps?"

"**ZEVRAN!**" It takes all my self control to not hurl the half-stale bread in my hand at his grinning face. "No!" I know what a massage really means with that...that...

"Alright, alright, my dear Rahna." He raises his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I understand. Perhaps I shall take first watch and allow you to calm down?"

"Good...idea," I grind out between clenched teeth. I glare at his back as he walks a few paces away. He needs to learn his limits with me. He can seduce as many tavern wenches or barmaids as he wishes, I don't sodding care, but the next time he tries that on me... well, no promises I'll contain myself so well. I know it's just his nature, but sod it all, it's only been two weeks. Like I told him, I am in no way over Alistair--or even ready to be over Alistair--yet.

I finish my meal with a sigh. My sorry attempt at cooking reminds me of the slop Alistair used to pass off as Ferelden pea and lamb stew or something like that when it was his turn to cook. At least it tasted better than this. I can't suppress a wry grin at the memory of his almost childish delight when he found out he was a better cook than me.

_"You really can't cook?"_

_"Nope. My only attempt at stew was so horrible Soris and Shianni called it one of the greatest trials known to the Alienage and joked about using it to punish unruly children."_

_"I'm actually better at something then you?"_

I punched him for that. Not hard, mind you. He was still wearing his armor. I pull my thoughts back to the present reluctantly. I wish I could live in my memories, but I can't. I have to live now. I finish my stew, offering a silent prayer of thanks that Leliana rectified my inability to cook. I lay down with a yawn, a week of next to no sleep finally taking its toll. My last thought before I drift off to sleep is a musing on the irony of trusting an assassin with watch duty.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_I'm standing in the middle of an empty campsite, one that looks eerily similar to ours when we were fighting the Blight. Where in Andraste's name **am** I? This can't be real. If it was our campsite, Sten would be standing over by that small hill, Wynne and Leliana would be in front of that tent, Oghren would be passed out next to them, and Alistair--_

_I freeze in my casual sweep of the area. It's not entirely empty. An oh-so-familiar figure is in his usual place, crouching to stir the ethereal flames of the campfire. He sees me and straightens, mouth twisting in a grin I've missed more than I realized._

_"Maker's breath, but you're beautiful, Rahna." **That** voice, saying **those** words has me flying at him, hands cupping his face as I kiss him with the pent up desperation and passion filling my heart. I don't sodding care if this is only a dream. I have Alistair, even if only for an hour or two. "That hello almost makes this worth it," he murmurs when I pull back. "I miss you."_

_"Then why did you...do what you did?" I bury my head against his bare chest, thanking the Fade for giving him to me shirtless. I'd rather not fight, especially because I don't know if I'll have any more of these dreams, but I really want to know._

_He tips my chin up and looks me in the eye. "Because despite what you've been telling yourself for the past two weeks, you're going to do more good than I ever could. Even as king."_

_"But--"_

_"You're more than just a sneaky, thieving elf, Rahna. By the way, I'm still upset at you for stealing my cheese in the Brecilian Forest."_

_"That's more than a little off-topic," I point out defensively, then offer a cheeky grin. "But I'm not sorry."_

_He laughs. Oh, Maker, how I've missed his laugh. "This is why I love you, you know."_

_"Because I unapologetically stole your cheese?"_

_"Because you're comfortable with who you are."_

_I snort a dry half-laugh. "As much as is possible when I have humans telling me I'm worthless every day of my sodding life."_

_"I think you've proven them wrong, **Hero**." He emphasizes the last word._

_I shake my head. "**You** killed the archdemon, not me."_

_"I did it so you wouldn't have to. Nothing motivates a man like protecting the woman he loves. So it's still dead because of you." He bends closer as he speaks, as if daring me to kiss him again. I take him up on it, arms looping around his neck as he straightens and lifts me off my feet. His fingers dig into my hair, and I return the favor. Dream though this may be, my passion is real. As is the ache in my heart._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hearing his companion moan in her sleep, Zevran's attention flew from the surrounding woods to the Warden's face. Instead of the anguish usually to be found there, as the day her life fell apart haunted her dreams, she looked wistfully happy. Like she was enjoying an unexpected pleasure that she knew was temporary. He knew the feeling.

That may have been what prompted him to bend down and kiss her as she slept. He let it linger as long as he dared, aware of the fact that Rahna would kill him if she caught him. The danger made it that much more fun. He pulled back only when Rahna shifted in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent.

"Ah, Rahna, my dear minx, how you torment me," Zevran murmured under his breath as he returned to his watch, focusing more than was necessary on the dark spots under the trees.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I don't wake until almost dawn. I feel horribly guilty for sleep so long, but Zev brushes off my apology and says I can make it up to him later. I give him a narrow-eyed glare, but I can't sense any innuendo in his words. For once. I let my mind drift back to my dream as we pack up camp, so used to the motions that I do them automatically.

It seemed so real. I know it wasn't. I know, and yet the release afforded by seeing Alistair, touching him, even if it was only in the Fade, is so great, I feel like I could sing. It's an urge I'll repress, because if I torture Zev like that, he'll probably change his mind about not assassinating me. My heart is singing with relief, though. I don't know if the experience is one that'll repeat in the future, but at the moment I don't care. I saw him, touched him, kissed him. For now, I'll take his love in dreams if I can't have it in reality. I hope this means I'm over dreaming about Fort Drakon. I need to move on, and I know it. Not that I'm giving him up or anything. A part of my heart died with him, but I can't keep mourning that part until the rest of me dies too. There's too much I need to and can do. And like Wynne said, there's people who would mourn me--deeply--if I died. I don't have a death wish, not anymore. There's a reason the Maker left me alive. While I disagree with what Alistair said in my dream last night--I don't see how much I can do--I know there's some reason. Until I find out what that is, Ferelden is stuck with me.

And so is Zevran. Though I don't think he minds too much. I'm his two favorite things: beautiful and dangerous. He's said so himself. On more than one occasion. Right now, however, I'm more distracted than anything else, and he has to grab my arm more than once to keep me from walking into things. I keep apologizing, and he keeps waving it off, until finally he's not quite fast enough to correct my course, and I bump straight into a human, a tall man carrying an armload of chain mail.

"Watch where yer goin', knife-ear!" He scowls at me as I scramble to pick up the fallen armor. "Maker, they shouldn't even let your kind outta the Alienages. Sodding elves."

I bristle. "What's wrong with elves?" Zevran shifts behind me, and I know he's ready for a fight. I'm very touchy about the way humans treat elves, and this human will probably set me off.

"They're like rats," the man sneers. "Small, useless, and they spread disease." He snorts in disgust as I stiffen.

"Fortunately not all humans feel as you do." I'm trying, really I am, to remain calm, but one more comment and I swear on Andraste's Ashes...

"Anyone who doesn't is a sodding idiot. You knife-ears are good for nothings who cause trouble wherever you go." He's baiting me. I know it.

I'm still half-tempted to jam my dagger through some part of his anatomy. I ball my hands into fists so tight my knuckles go white and turn to walk away, my mind wholly on where I'm going.

Until the jackass decides to fire a parting shot. "You have a human lover, Knife-ear?" He shakes his head when he sees my spine straighten, confirming his guess. "Bastard doesn't deserve to live."

Fury washes over me. _Alistair didn't deserve to live? _Right. That does it. _You. Are. Dead!_

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

_A/N: Sorry it's taken me longer than usual to update. I had the basic idea for this chapter, and most of what happens, before I started writing, but then my ideas started deserting me! The song lyrics at the beginning are from "In Dreams" from The LotR movies, which also inspired this chapter's title, after I wrote the part in the Fade._


	8. Trouble

**Edit: So...fixed a teensy weensy problem with my Italian. Thanks to Hikari86 for pointing it out!**

8. Trouble

I fly at the human, blades sliding free of their sheaths. I'm going to kill him. How _dare_ he say that about Alistair? I'm used to elves being the target of abuse. I hate it, but I'm used to it. But to insult Alistair...

I see Zevran move to stop me, but I'm committed now. I slam into the human, pinning him to the ground with my knee in his throat and Duncan's dagger less than an inch from his eye. "Don't. _**Ever**_. Say that again." I get right in his face as I growl out the warning. "He was a better man than you or anyone else could ever hope to be. He's the reason you're not being eaten alive by darkspawn right now."

"Rahna!" Zev hisses as he grabs my arm and drags me off the man, far more forcefully than I would expect. That's when I notice my audience. Oops. I can tell just by looking at them that they don't see a Grey Warden defending the honor of her dead lover, who sacrificed himself to save her and everyone else in Ferelden. They see an elf-a very well armed elf-attacking a human. I think we may be in trouble. But I'm not sorry. I won't apologize. That...that _pig_ deserved it. If they'd given me a few more seconds, I'd probably have relieved him of one of his eyes.

"Sorry," I whisper to Zevran. I didn't mean to get him in trouble, too.

"Come. I think we have worn out our welcome." He drags me off down the road.

"Where d'you think _you're_ goin'?" someone demands behind us.

"Anywhere but here," I shoot back. "I did no damage beyond bruises that he deserved."

"You attacked him."

"And?" Zevran gives up trying to get me to leave, for the moment at least. "Did you hear what he was saying to me? Do you know who I am?" I didn't really want to play that card, but if I have to, I have to.

"Let me guess...the Hero of Ferelden?" one of the men asks in a mocking tone.

"Actually, yes, I am." I sheath my weapons, knowing that I don't look very heroic at the moment. The drake scale armor Wade made for me is rare, but looks like any other set of leather armor. While I'm usually glad for that-it keeps people from attempting to rob me-at the moment it's a bit of a hindrance to my credibility.

"And I'm the archdemon," the man I pinned spits as he regains his feet. It takes all my self control not make some comment about him being ugly enough. Or grin about the new rasp to his voice. I really would like to get away without fighting. If that's even possible. I know I could take five of 'em by myself, and with Zev to back me up, all fourteen wouldn't be a problem. But heroes don't go around beating up civilians. And I have a distinct feeling Alistair would _**not**_ approve.

"You don't look like a dragon. And aren't the full-grown ones all female?" I'm trying to play innocent as Zev and I edge closer to a gap in the surrounding crowd, but I don't think any of them are buying it.

"If you do not wish to fight, I suggest we take our leave. _**Now**_," Zevran whispers, fingers closing around my wrist as he darts toward the opening. I stumble after him until my feet catch on to what we're doing. Then we're both running as fast as we can. Were those soldiers, neither of us would have budged a centimeter. Professional pride and all. But I don't kill civilians, and Zevran only does if the price is right. Once we're far enough away, we cut off into the woods lining the road.

"Sorry, Zev," I gasp when we finally stop to take a break.

"I knew it would be an adventure to travel with you, my dear." He leans against a tree. "And I would have been more surprised had you walked away from an insult cast at your lover. But next time you desire to teach an ignorant _asino_ a lesson, may I suggest a more secluded location than a main road."

"For a rogue I'm not particularly good at subtly when someone insults the people I care about," I confess. "That idiot can join Vaughan and Loghain on the list of people who have learned that the hard way. At least I didn't kill him."

"You make an excellent point. Where to next, my dear Warden?"

"Longreach. There's an inn there, and I would rather sleep in a bed than on the ground if possible tonight." I grin at him. "And perhaps they employ maids with fewer inhibitions than those in the last town."

He sighs wistfully. "One can only hope."

I chuckle. Some things never change. The kingdom could be thrown into civil war again, the crops could fail, Orlais could invade, and still the most likely place to find Zevran will be somewhere with dark corners and beautiful, willing women. His ability to move on so fast, while an asset to assassination, is one of the main reasons I chose Alistair over him. With Zev I felt I could never be sure if he was eyeballing another woman when my back was turned, if he would even truly care if anything happened to me. He seemed too cavalier about love for my taste. Alistair on the other hand, I knew adored me with a single minded passion that occasionally scared me. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was his until the day one of us died. Of course, _that_ didn't end quite as I'd been hoping it would. _No, I'm not going to think about this. I'm not. I will__** not**__ do this to myself again._ "Let's go." My tone is sharper than I intend, and I think that clues Zev into what-who-I was thinking about.

Much to Zevran's delight, the inn at Longreach, The Noble's Brat, has a tavern well-supplied with both wenches and barmaids, few of which have any inhibitions whatsoever. Before I've finished ordering a meal, he's already sweet-talked two of them into a threesome, and is hard at work convincing another to join them. He knows better than to ask me. He and the three women-two elves and a human-disappear towards one of the inn's back rooms. I solemnly swear to myself that I am staying out here until he reappears. I know him well enough to know if I go back there, I will probably hear or see something that I will wish I hadn't. That's what happened at The Spoiled Princess. And probably would have at the last inn, except he picked the wrong barmaid and got slapped for his trouble.

So I take my food and sit down at one of the tables. I sniff the stew suspiciously. Call me paranoid, but I know some of these places are less than careful concerning what goes in the pot. However, this doesn't smell any worse than the one and only time I told Oghren to cook. It was edible, at least, even if it was horrible enough Alistair and Leliana promised never to refuse cooking duty ever again. That was when Leli offered to teach me to cook, so there was someone actually decent at it aside from the two of them. I smile at the memory.

_"Oh, Maker, what's __**in**__ here?" Alistair makes a face after his first bite of the greenish concoction._

_"D'you __**really**__ want to know, boy?"Oghren asks with a knowing laugh._

_Alistair stares at the bowl, his face changing color to match its contents. "On second thought, no. Probably not."_

I take a tentative bite of the stew. Despite the smell, it's actually pretty good. Nowhere near as delicious as Leliana's cooking, but better than what we got in the Alienage. I don't want to know what the chunks of meat floating in the broth are, because I have a sneaking suspicion it would ruin my appetite. It tastes like lamb. I tear off a hunk of the bread and dip it in the broth. Simple food is the best, in my opinion.

My attention is drawn away from the food when I realize the man at the table next to mine is staring at me. "May I help you?" _Stop staring at me like that. It's creepy._

"My apologies, my lady. I can't help but think we've met before." His hood hides his eyes as he bows his head slightly in apology. That's a little better.

I shrug noncommittally. "It's entirely possible. I've been traveling all over Ferelden for the last year. We may have encountered each other at some point. Though I must admit I don't remember you, if that_ is_ the case." His voice sounds familiar, but I can't place why.

"Most people don't." There's a hint of a wry chuckle in his voice. "It's not so bad. Once you get used to it. Being instantly recognizable doesn't really appeal to me."

"Are you hiding from someone?" Now I'm curious. And positive I _have_ met him before. I wish I could remember where.

He hesitates. "You...you could say that, I suppose."

"Why? If you don't mind telling me," I amend. I know, I know, it's rude to ask someone a question like that when I've just met him and don't even know his name yet, but I can't help myself. My father has always scolded me for being too curious for my own good.

"I did some pretty bad things. Someone gave me a second chance, and I'm trying not to waste it."

"So why are you hiding?"Now I'm confused in addition to curious.

"Some of the people from my past wouldn't be so willing to forgive my wrongs," he explains. "I'd rather not have to face them again."

"Well, that's understandable. What made the person who gave you a second chance willing to forgive you?" I take another bite of stew-saturated bread as he formulates an answer.

"Part of it may have been the fact she wasn't as directly affect by what I did," he admits. "I think it gave her a more unbiased perspective, and made her more willing to believe me when I said I was sorry."

"That's a lucky break for you."

"You could say that. I'm just grateful for a second chance." He downs the rest of his drink. "Do you mind if I ask your name?"

"Zerahna Tabris," I answer. Something about him-aside from how familiar he seems-makes me think I can trust him, at least that much. It's not like my name is a huge secret or anything.

"The Grey Warden?" He smiles knowingly when I nod. "I think I remember where we met."

I find it incredibly interesting that he didn't identify me as the Hero of Ferelden. Undeserving as I feel of that title, it's the one people know me by. "Oh?"

"Redcliffe." He stands and drops some silvers on his table.

I frown as I try to remember. My memory's been more than a little fuzzy in spots, thanks to that sodding archdemon. Alistair's goodbye isn't the only thing that's now incomplete. "I still don't remember meeting you," I admit apologetically. "What's your name?"

He half smiles. "Levyn." He leaves as I'm trying to place him. My attention is ripped away from my deliberations-and the remains of my meal-by a commotion in the back of the inn. My heart sinks. I have a feeling I know who's the cause of the ruckus, and an equally strong feeling we'll be sleeping on the ground-again-tonight.

"_Merda_!"

"Sodding _elf_!" This roaring accusation is accompanied by a shriek I picture coming from the blonde elf who was the first to succumb to Zevran's charms. Quickly following is a long, swift chain of Antivan curses.

_Damn it, Zev!_ My mental cursing of Zevran and his ability to cause trouble without even trying is put on hold as the assassin that is subject of my ire comes shooting down the hallway, skidding to a stop just before slamming into the wall.

He looks at me apologetically. "Sorry, _il mi amica_. Shaylien's husband has terrible timing." I just sigh as the biggest, nastiest human I've ever seen lumbers out of the back. If he's under six foot five, I'm queen of Ferelden. And he's muscled to match his height. He could take both of us. I think it's time for another hasty withdraw. Not doubting Zev's skill-Maker forbid-but I think this is one batch of trouble I would rather avoid.

So, mirroring his earlier move on the road, I grab his arm and yank him toward the door. We don't stop running until we're far out of town. "Zevran Arainai, what am I going to _do_ with you?" I pant as I let a fencepost take my weight. "What happened to not getting me in too much trouble?"

"If I remember correctly, my dear Rahna, I promised not to get you into more trouble than you got me into. I'd say we stand even for the day, no?" His golden eyes gleam as he sees my expression. I have to admit he's right.

"Alright, alright. You've got me there. Where should we camp tonight? That's the only inn for about fifty miles, and I'm dead tired, thanks to running from Ser Gynormous."

Zevran chuckles. "I know a place. It's not far. Come." He has to half-carry me-no complaints on his part, I'm sure-to the clearing he wants. I manage to summon enough energy to help set up camp, thankful I've learned my lesson about traveling with Zev well enough I never take off any of my gear, so we didn't leave anything behind in our flight. Sleep comes fast enough.

_A/N: Since Antiva is based off Venice, according to David Gaider, Zevran's "Antivan" is really Italian. =D To make it less work for you, asino=ass; merda=crap(okay, it's really the one a step stronger, but I wanna keep my T rating...); il mi amica=my friend. I don't actually speak Italian, so I used the Google translator. If anything is wrong, and you know how I should fix it, feel free to let me know!_


	9. Second Chances

**EDIT: So, this is what I get for posting at 10 pm. I noticed a slew of errors and went back to fix them.**

9. Second Chances

I am going to cause Zevran _**serious**_ pain. I swear it on my mother's dagger. That is, of course, unless the men on our tail do it first. Both of them are bigger that the man in Longreach, both of them are furious at my companion, and, Dear Maker, they are both _**fast**_. And enduring. They've been chasing us for five minutes, and even though my breath is starting to wheeze rather raggedly, they're still there, no farther back than when Zevran bolted from yet another tavern like my mabari after a soup bone. I still don't know exactly what happened. I know it involved a tankard of ale, a pretty woman, and a looong string of Antivan curses, but I was outside, attempting to barter for more supplies, and missed seeing exactly what happened. The two men behind us obviously blame Zev for whatever it is, and from the expression of nonchalant guilt etched across his face like another tattoo, I think they're right.

"What...did...you do?" I gasp out as we hurtle a low fence and doge the plants on the other side.

"All I did was kiss the girl, _il mi amica_."

"That's...**all**?" The raised eyebrow in my voice mirrors the expression on my face. I doubt that's all he did, for these two who look like they want to murder him-and by extension, me-to be so doggedly on our heels.

"I swear it. Ferelden men are far more protective of their women than those in Antiva."

"They...share her?" I pant as we reach the woods, the men still on our heels.

He laughs, sounding only the slightest bit out of breath. "Ah, no. That is another trait sadly limited to Antiva, in my experience...save royal mistresses."

A memory of what I could have been flits through my mind. I wouldn't want that. Part of the reason Anora holds a throne I don't really think should be hers. "Ah."

"One is her lover, and the other..." he pauses as we vault a fallen tree. "...is her brother, I believe."

"Why...does...this sort of thing...happen...so much with you?"

He grins and hauls me to my feet as I stumble. "Because I have the good fortune of drawing women like-what is your saying?-moths to a flame?"

"Can you...put out the flame?" I growl breathlessly. "That's the...third town we've...been chased out...of thanks...to you."

"Alas, no." He doesn't look too sorry as he glances back to see if the men are still behind us. "It is my curse. Sad, no?"

"Oh...YES." Despite the fact we have yet to shake our entirely too stubborn pursuers, I have to catch my breath, or I'm going to die of a heart attack. Glamorous end for the Hero of Ferelden. I duck behind a particularly huge tree and gasp for air.

"In here." I don't see the possessor of this new voice at first. It isn't Zev, and certainly isn't one of the men behind us. The vines covering what looked like a solid rock wall part to reveal a small cave and a man whose appearance would be most kindly described as somewhere between scruffy and disheveled. He grabs me and Zevran by our arms and drags us into the dark refuge. I'm too worn out to resist or protest the wisdom-or lack thereof-in trusting this man. And anyway, if he has ill designs for us, they can hardly be worse than those held by the men hot on our trail. Zevran slaps one hand over my mouth to silence my ragged breathing until our hunters thunder past.

"Thank...you." I manage to gasp quietly to our rescuer after pushing Zevran's hand away from my face.

He shrugs. "One good turn deserves another." The voice is familiar, and I realize it's the man from the tavern in Longreach. Levyn. The one who says we've met before, even if I don't remember it.

"Really? And what did I do to place you in the position of owing me a good turn?"

"Might I suggest we find another place to lay low before I answer a string of questions?" he suggests. "This cave is hardly a good place for long term hiding, and if those men are more thorough on their return trip, it's not that hard to find."

He has a point. "Alright. You know a better place?" Beside me, Zevran shifts restlessly. Whether because his seat is uncomfortable, or the idea of trusting a man we just met-as far as he knows-to hide us, I don't know.

But I'm in charge here. So we follow Levyn out of the cave as he heads for, I suppose, a better place to lay low, one where we can converse without being heard. I remember what he said about liking the fact no one notices or remembers him. This new place is probably as much for his good as for ours.

It ends up being another cave, larger, more remote, and concealed extremely well. As we crawl in through the low entrance, the hood of Levyn's cloak falls down, and I can finally see his face. He's lean. Or maybe a better term would be gaunt, if those hollow cheeks and sharply obvious cheekbones are trustworthy indications. He has extremely pale skin, dark hair, and one of the sorriest excuses for a beard I've ever seen. It's still mostly stubble, and he rubs one hand against it almost instinctively when he catches me staring at him, his eyes sheepish. Looking at him makes me absolutely positive I've met him before. I still can't remember anyone named Levyn in Redcliffe, and certainly don't remember meeting a scraggly-bearded man who looked like the type to run and hide from any kind of trouble. But I know I've met this man. It's going to drive me crazy.

"So tell me what I did that make you feel like you owe me." I settle onto the floor as I remind him of my question. Zevran sits next to me-close but not too much so.

"You spared my life when you didn't have to, probably shouldn't have, and had every reason not to."

If that wasn't enough to finally snap the image of regret-filled and incredibly resigned pale blue eyes staring at me through prison bars to the forefront of my mind, the small stream of fire he lets trickle from one scar-crossed hand to the lopsided stack of wood on the floor removes any doubts.

"Jowan?" It's a whispered question more because I can't remember if that's his real name than disbelief at running into _him_, of all people on the Maker's green earth, here, of all places.

"Levyn," he corrects. "But, yes. It was Jowan."

_The Maker has quite the sense of humor_. The thought brings an ironic smile to touch my lips. "I wonder what you did after I let you go."

"You didn't just _let me go_, if I remember correctly." He smiles slightly.

"Well, I couldn't let you stay. Andraste's flaming sword, Jow-_Levyn_, they would have _killed_ you. I don't care what you did to try to fix things, or how sorry you were, Eamon would have _executed_ you. I figured if you were serious about wanting to atone for all you had done, getting you out of Redcliffe was the best way to ensure that happened."

"I'll bet you caught twenty different kinds of grief for it."

"I did indeed. So I hope whatever you've been up to since then won't make me regret it." I'm sure the challenge is as clear in my eyes as it is in my tone as I stare at him across the fire.

"Not at all." His tone is somewhere between nervous and sheepish, but he's not lying. I can tell.

"Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but would you mind filling me in, my dear minx?" Zevran's interruption is as close to acidic and confused as I've ever heard his tone reach, and I remember he didn't come to Redcliffe with me. I left him guarding the camp with Leliana and Sten. I dragged Morrigan, Wynne and Alistair-of course-with me for that particular trip. And if I remember correctly, Alistair was_ not _happy with me for just letting Jowan go.

_"A __**blood mage**__, Rahna?"_

_"Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"_

_"Even a blood mage?"_

I turn to Zevran and explain what happened in the castle at Redcliffe. It doesn't take long, especially since I compress all the grief Teagan and Eamon gave as much as I possible can.

"Ah, I see. Yet another unworthy soul shown mercy?" He chuckles and raises an eyebrow at Jowan. _Levyn_, I remind myself, then shake my head. I can't think of him as anything other than Jowan. "I'm surprised she didn't try to convince you to join us. Rahna has a weakness for recruiting those other would kill."

"The thought crossed my mind. But you forget Alistair and Wynne would probably have walked out on me had I done that," I comment tartly, looking sideways at Jowan. "Asking Alistair to travel with Morrigan was bad enough. I don't want to know what he would have said had I asked him to accept a blood mage on top of that." I shoot Jowan an awkward look. "You don't...still do that, do you?" I'm not exactly comfortable with the idea myself, if I'm perfectly honest.

He shakes his head, something approaching sadness in his eyes. "No. I don't really use magic much at all." He stares straight into the heart of the fire and mutters under his breath, "That was the plan from the start."

Something-like the pain positively swimming in his eyes-tells me there's a whole sodding _lot_ that isn't being said. But I decide to let him off the hook, seeing as he did just save our skins. "So, what's the plan? We go our way and you go yours?"

"I was figuring on something like that, yes." He nods in assent, an expression of relief mingled with regret crossing his face.

"Unless...do you want to come with us?" It's an impulsive question, fueled mostly by what I saw flicker in his eyes.

Loneliness.

"Why? If they catch you with me..." He looks undecided, desire for company warring with his desire to not cause anymore harm to anyone.

"You'll be less likely to draw attention if you aren't traveling alone. You know men who travel alone and hide in the corner of taverns draw the gossips' attention, if no one else's. And Zevran and I are more than capable of handling ourselves." That may be the understaement of my lifetime. I see the undecided longing in his eyes. "We didn't have any particular plan, outside of wandering for the next few months. A...stabilizing presence would be more than welcome."

He raises an eyebrow, reading exactly what I intended in the graciously worded statement. "Well, who am I to refuse if you wish my company?"

I'm now traveling with an assassin and a-hopefully-former blood mage. _Maker's mercy, Alistair, if you could see me now..._ I can't help but wonder what he would think, not when including him in any and all decisions came as naturally as breathing for the past year. He'd probably ask me if I've taken complete leave of my senses. Considering he was what kept me reasonable most of the time, the answer is pretty much yes.

Zevran shoots me a brief, mildly disbelieving look before shaking his head. I can almost see the 'What did you expect?' dancing through his mind. He knows my willingness to give second chances to those others wouldn't, Loghain and Howe being the only exceptions to that rule. I hardly expect him to be judgmental, considering that he falls in that category more easily than Jowan does. "Well, then, are we moving on?"

"Yes. I think we should get as far away from here as possible." I mean it too. Those men didn't seem the type to give up easily. They may be back. Or maybe I'm just ridiculously paranoid. The Maker only knows which.

_A/N: So, there's the lead up, if not the scene I'm dying to write. I'll see about getting that done. Originally "Levyn" was only supposed to show up in the cameo I put in the last chapter. But I love Jowan too much to let it be at that(should have known that if I let him get a foot through the door he'd push his way through. I can't say no to the sad mage who ruined his life). And the idea of having him travel with Rahna and Zevran...my brain is nearly exploding from the number of possible situations-good, bad, or hilarious-that could come from this. I didn't know anything beyond Jowan either getting A) executed or B) sent back to the Tower was possible until I was reading his page on the DA wiki and noticed that if you tell him to run and you never want to see him again, he does actually do some good-which I will hopefully be able to mention in the next chapter-in a possible, and unfortunately bugged, sidequest. I positively** cheered**. And looked up video proof on youtube. And cheered some more. That quest is where the alias 'Levyn' comes from, too. Oh, and I apologize for the slight lack of Zev in this chapter. That will be more than remedied, I think in the next chapter._


	10. The Plot Thickens

10. The Plot Thickens

"So, where'd this Levyn business come from?"

"Pardon?" The newest addition to our...well, I guess it's a group now turns to look at me in undisguised confusion as I leave the leading to Zevran. He supposedly knows this territory better. Or so he says.

"Why'd you change your name?" Curiousity is-once again-eating me alive, even though I told him I'm still calling him Jowan. I can tell that changing his name isn't all he did; his hair's a little longer, tied back in a low, scraggly ponytail that's a perfect match for the sorry excuse for a beard I noticed earlier.

He shrugs. "If the Knight-Commander is looking for a blood mage named Jowan, I figured I wouldn't be Jowan anymore. Hence the new name-"

"And the new look?" I resist the temptation to reach up and pull on his hair, settling instead for twitching the ragged sleeve of the tunic he's wearing. "Where'd those clothes come from, anyway? A rubbish heap?"

"Close enough." He rolls his shoulders in a mix of embarrasment and weariness. We've been walking for quite a while. "Found them in a pile of cast-offs behind a Chantry. I knew the robes had to go if I wanted to not draw attention to myself."

"So no one's guessed you're a mage? At all?"

"I avoid templars like the plague, and haven't used magic hardly at all since Redcliffe." It's a basic, detail-free explanation, but I take the hint not to press the issue yet. "I know they're still looking for me. Greagoir-the Knight-Commander isn't the type to give up on anything. Tracking an escaped blood mage is an especially worth cause."

"I remember meeting Greagoir. He didn't strike me as the type to give up." Stern, uncompromising, and perhaps incapable of smiling, but definitely not the type to give up.

Jowan nods. "The templars will be after me until they catch me. If they're looking for someone I'm not anymore, it's that much less likely they'll ever find me."

"Long as you're careful," I point out, while knowing he's probably already painfully aware of that fact.

"I know." He pushes his sleeve up high enough for me to see the jagged scar running from his wrist almost to his elbow. "They nearly caught me in a village near River Dane."

"And you're okay with running your whole life?" I can't imagine what that would be like.

"What choice do I have?" he mutters almost bitterly, "The templars aren't going to give up until they catch me." I can see the ending of _that_ haunting his eyes. "It's harder without my phylactery, but they're persistant about these things."

And idea smacks into my skull. Slightly insane, more than a little desperate, but... "Unless they thought you were dead."

**oOo**

After he stops staring at me like I'm crazy-which maybe I am-he listens to my idea. Zev looks back when he catches one of my broad gestures out of the corner of his eyes. I've always been one to talk with my hands when I get really excited. When we set up camp that evening, he demands to know what I'm scheming now. I lean closer to the campfire-which was started the conventional way this time-as I explain my plan to him. If it's already the insane brand of brilliant coming from my brain, letting Zev in on it will make it the sensible-and more likely to succeed-brand of brilliant as well.

"I like the way you think, my dear minx," he chuckles when I finish. "Deception, a cover-up worthy of the Crows, and mostly well thought out for only being conceived this afternoon. However, there are a few flaws that I can see." He leans closer, grinning as I scoot back enough to make it clear this is business.

"That's why I told you. You're good at fixing flaws." Jowan watches our animated planning session with the closest thing to a smile I've seen cross his face. Which basically means he looks...relaxed, rather than scared. Good to know he trusts us. Something about him makes me think there aren't too many people he could trust in his past. One more thing to ask him about.

Finally, Zevran and I manage to work out a pretty damn good plan. If it wasn't wholly conceived based on deception, Alistair would be proud of me. I think. After ironing out as many details as we can at the moment, I re-explain the plan to Jowan.

We're going to fake me and Zevran killing him. We'll have to set up some spot close but not too close to a town to look like we ran into him and fought him, which means him using a bit of magic. "Just a fire spell to char a couple trees, maybe an arcane bolt, and hit one of us with a weakness spell." He practically turns green when I get through that list. He must have really been serious about this 'no magic' thing. A thought occurs to me. "Can...can templars sense the difference between regular magic and blood magic?" I know they can sense the after-effects of magic; Alistair more than once pointed out spots where the remnants of some spell or other hung.

Jowan's shoulders seem to sag a little as he nods. "They can."

I hate having to ask this. The poor man's been through enough already. "Then...are there any _small _blood magic spells?"

He nods again, looking miserable. "Yes."

_Maker's __**Breath**__, I wish I didn't have to do this! _"Then you'll have to cast one. I'm sorry," I say hastily as an expression of pure panic floods his face. "But if there's no evidence pointing to a blood mage, this whole thing will be for nothing, because they won't believe that it was you. You don't have to do it _to_ either of us, just do something so there's traces of it in the area."

"I know," he sighs, sounding small. "I just..." He lets the sentence trail into oblivion and absently rubs the scar across his left palm.

"You just...what?" I ask, gently as possible. Zevran melts into the shadows, murmuring something about taking first watch.

"I swore I was done with that after..." He snaps a twig off the branch he's been fingering and tosses it into the fire, almost viciously, which doesn't seem like him.

If regret were to assume human form, it couldn't do a better job than to exactly imitate the man sitting next to me. I tamp down the rampant curiosity squirming in my chest. He doesn't need the questions of an overly-curious elf right now.

**oOo**

We go over the plan multiple times in the course of the next couple days, always tweaking little details. Well, Zevran does most of the tweaking. Despite all his remarks about how I'm a natural at this, I know he's the real expert at planning these sorts of things.

"You know, my dear Rahna, you really should plot to deceive templars more often," he chuckles as I point out a contradiction in our stories.

"Why is that?" I ask, tone half suspicious and half teasing as I brush back my hair. It's grown some since...that day, but not enough to make a ponytail.

"Because I haven't ever seen you look more alive, well, at least not recently," he amends, giving me a dirty grin that clues me in to exactly what he's talking about. I really don't want to talk about that, especially with Zevran, for Andraste's sake. And _especially_ not in front of someone else.

"I think it's more helping a friend than lying to templars that's brought me to life, Zev."

"As you wish, Rahna." His grin hints that he doesn't completely believe me, but he doesn't say anything more.

We settle on the town to use for our deception, camping far enough away the night before that no one will see us. Jowan is incredibly tense. I guess I can't really blame him, all things considered. But he's a dead man walking anyway if we don't try this, so Zev and I have more to worry about than he does. I doubt even being the Hero of Ferelden exempts you from the consequences of aiding a blood mage if the templars catch you.

"Calm down. It'll be fine," I reassure Jowan, resting one hand on his arm. "Nothing to worry about."

He gives me a small-and still nervous-smile. "I know. I also know I have the easy part." He gets to hide while Zevran and I are spinning our tale. "But I like to worry. It drove Miri absolutely insane."

"Who's Miri?"

"My best friend back at the Tower." He gives a bitter half-laugh. "More like the only one who would put up with me. She helped me find my phylactery and destroy it so I could escape." He rubs the back of his neck guiltily. "I wish I knew what happened to her. I...I wasn't a very good friend."

Again I find myself swearing to dig out his story-before and after Redcliffe-in its entirety. But not now. I don't want him distracted tomorrow. We have to make it look good.

**oOo**

When we find a spot that will work perfectly, Jowan sets about his part of our grand deception. Like he said last night, it's the easy part. He just has to torch a couple trees, work a small blood magic spell, maybe launch one arcane bolt, and then hit me with a weakness spell. He seems especially unhappy about that last part.

Zevran, keeping watch at the edge of the staged battle scene, makes a discovery that, while gross and disgusting, will be an invaluable addition to our plan. A body, half-hidden in a nearby ditch. It looks like a beggar who went a little too long between meals. The man hasn't been dead long, but still I let Zevran be the one to touch him. It. When Jowan sees what he's doing, he makes a face that probably mirrors the disgust on mine.

"We can put him near one of the trees, make it look like the body was burned by the mage's own fire after we killed him." Zevran shoots me a devious grin as he pulls out his dagger and jams it in the corpse's chest a couple times.

"That's gruesome." I wrinkle my nose as my stomach lurches in protest.

"But necessary, my dear," Zev retorts as he lets the body flop next to one of the blazing trees. "Are you done, my friend?" The question is directed at Jowan.

"Halfway." He means done except for the two things he's unhappiest about doing: the blood magic and hitting me with a weakness spell.

"Jowan, I wish there was some way you wouldn't have to do blood magic, trust me, but if we want them to believe it was you-"

"Wait a moment." His eyes light up with an idea and he shakes his head. "I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner." He reaches inside his tunic and tugs something free. "Here. Anyone from the Tower would know that this is mine." He holds out the item to me. "It's the one thing I couldn't give up."

I take it almost mechanically. It's a necklace, small pewter medallion dangling from the snapped leather cord. There's an arcane rune etched on one side, and the metal seems to pulse with warmth as I cradle it in my palm and wrap the cord around my hand. "Alright, alright, you're off the hook for the blood magic-" I can't help but smile as he sighs in relief "-but you still need to hit me with weakness. Not much, but something. It'll make our story ten times more believable if we don't emerge unscathed from fighting a maleficar."

He grimaces. "Good point." He turns and adds a bit to the fire devouring the trees behind us.

"Quit stalling." It's the closest thing to an order I've given since Fort Drakon, and he hears it in my tone. I watch the shimmering, rippling ball of sickly-looking magic form in his hand and try not to wince in anticipation. I fought things that used weaknes before, and I'm not too happy about this arrangement myself. But we agreed that since Zev's the better-and more practiced-liar of the two of us, he needs to have his head clear. Besides, I wouldn't have volunteered anyone but myself for this.

When the spell hits me I nearly tumble. It isn't overpowering weakness, but I still feel shaky.

Zevran grabs my arm and drapes it around his shoulders, hissing "Go" at Jowan before he and I make our slow way toward the town and the most terrifying ordeal I've faced since the Landsmeet: another battle of words rather than blades. _Maker help me..._

_A/N: So, more build up. :) I wanna get to the scene, but the whole 'not-if-they-think-you're-dead' thing popped out of Rahna without me planning it, and that tangent intrigued me. And challenged me. And when an idea does BOTH, it needs to be indulged. And how to make it work was surprisingly easy to invent. When the details emerge, we'll see if it was too good to be true. _

_The fact that this has reached TEN chapters is funny when you consider it was originally planned as a one-shot...and then a two or three chapter short story...and then just supposed to go through the end of Origins...and then I'm looking at a double digit chapter number...and a couple characters I did NOT plan on making major(but Zev's too fun and I just can **not** resist Jowan). And I know for a fact here will be at least two more chapters, because this insane plot of hers is going to probably take a chapter, and then there's still The Scene. That and its fall-out will probably be a whole 'nother chapter...and then I'll probably skip time some cuz I'm REALLY curious how Rahna would react to the Awakening companions. _


	11. Without a Hitch

11. Without a Hitch

My heart pounds as Zevran and I get closer to the town. I honestly can't even remember the name. Maybe that's a good thing. It'll help with our story if we don't seem too clear on details. _After all_, I reason with with myself as I stumble again, _If I'd really just fought and killed a blood mage, I wouldn't bother with details like the name of the town I headed for to report it._

"I'm happy to see you're eating better, my dear," Zevran grunts, adjusting his grip on my arm, which is still wrapped around his shoulders. "Wynne was quite concerned about your lack of an appetite for a while."

"Aw, sorry, Zev, am I too heavy?" I tease, trying to support a bit more of my own weight anyway.

"You know strength is not an assassin's strong point, my dear, if you'll pardon the pun," he points out. My retort is stopped by an attack of dizziness. Damn, that was a better weakness spell than I really wanted Jowan to use. Oh, well. I don't know how much control he has over the strength of his spells. Maybe it's an all or nothing deal. The way I keep tripping over myself like a newborn kitten will certainly add to our credibility.

**oOo**

We stumble into the town with a moderate amount of attention. After all, an elf who can't stay on her feet for more than two steps bears _notice_, at the very least.

"Yore woman can't 'old 'er ale, eh?" a half-drunk merchant asks Zevran as we make our way down the street.

"Alas, no, my friend." That may the last truthful statement to proceed from his mouth for a while. I get drunk even faster than Alistair. "However, for once, ale is not to blame for her condition."

"Wot then?" The merchant looks keenly interested.

Zevran looks to one side, and then the other. "We...encountered a mage a fair way outside of your town. Jumpy fellow. Though startled, he unfortunately managed to hit my companion with a weakness spell before I killed him."

"You look like yore real good at that," the merchant comments, sizing Zevran up. "Killin', I mean."

"I am flattered, my friend, but I wonder, could you point me in the direction of the Chantry? Surely the templars would like to know of this. I understand they are most diligent in tracking escaped mages."

The merchant nods in understanding. "We only got two templars at the moment, but one of 'em came from th' Tower and said 'e was lookin' fer a blood mage. Chantry's that way." He points in the direction of a side street.

"Many thanks. Come on, my dear. You can rest soon enough." He drags me in the direction the man pointed.

"Maybe I should just let you do _all_ the talking, instead of just _most_ of it," I mutter, my head spinning.

"You know that won't work, my dear minx," he replies under his breath. "The templars will simply cleanse the spell and then want your version of our supposed escapades." He's right. But I'm already off on the next train of thought.

"Did that merchant really say there's a templar here from the Tower? Or was I hearing things?" I ask, fighting off another dizzy spell.

"He did."

"That will either be a lucky break or the worst thing that could have happened, depending on how well we can act."

"Rahna, my dear, you wound me. Have I done such a poor job?" Zevran exclaims in pretend hurt.

"I'm more worried about _me_," I point out. "But if that templar is from the Tower, he would have known Jowan." I look down at the pendant pressed into my palm. "He should recognize this. And if we give a rough description, he'll know who we mean..."

"I hear a 'but' in your tone, my dear."

"If the, um, body didn't burn enough, he'll knows it's not...who we're saying it is."

"Take it one thing at a time, Rahna," Zev points out. "Starting with your part of our charade."

I look up from my horribly uncooperative feet at that. We're at the Chantry. I take a deep breath. _Maker, help me,_ I beg mentally, mind all in a muddle. Will the Maker really help me lie? I'm doing it to help a friend, sure. But it's still lying. And a real doozy of a lie too, not just a little fib. I hope the fact I'm helping a friend makes it excusable in the Maker's eyes.

**oOo**

I collapse into the back pew of the small Chantry while Zevran goes in search of the Revered Mother. The woman finally emerges, flanked by two templars. One is a middle aged woman, her brown hair done in the same style Anora was wearing last I saw her. The other is a dark-skinned younger man, who carries himself like someone just as used to giving orders as he is to taking them. He does a double take when he see me.

"Beg pardon, my lady, but if you don't mind my asking, aren't you the Warden that killed Uldred?" he inquires, brow wrinkling. "And the archdemon?"

I nod half-heartedly. "Y-Yes."

"What wrong with her?" the woman templar demands. From the number of lines creasing her face, I'd say the frown currently on display is an all too common expression of hers.

"We encountered...a mage...a ways out of town," I reply, speaking for myself with more than a trace of the stubborness Alistair used to tease me about. "I...He caught me with a weakness spell before my friend killed him." I try to look sheepish; after all, not many who have done what I did would be happy about coming out on the losing end against a silly mage.

"What happened? What did he look like?" the man demands.

"I..." My reply trails off and I clench the end of the pew as the world tilts again.

"Oh, apologies, Warden." He rests one hand on my shoulder, and I feel a brief surge of energy thrum through me. The dizziness is gone, and I don't feel so...limp anymore.

"Ah, that's much better. Thank you..." I look at him questioningly.

"Oh, pardon my manners. Ser Barrett."

I smile at him. "Thank you, Ser Barrett. We were cutting through the woods back where the path loops a few miles outside, um..."

"Hafter's Bend," the woman supplies brusquely.

"Yes, thank you, Hafter's Bend, and we just stumbled upon a mage in a small clearing. And when I say stumbled, I mean it." I chuckle wryly, ignoring the guilt twisting my stomach. "I don't know who was more startled, him or us. He cast the weakness spell before I had time to react."

"And then your friend killed him?" Ser Barrett inquires.

"Only after he attempted to turn me into a torch," Zevran replies. "Fortunately I am both remarkably resilient and better at dodging than he anticipated, and he merely singed me." He shrugs. "Also faster than anticipated, apparently, because he was too slow in making his escape. Thanks to my dagger, he'll not be trouble anymore."

"What did he look like?" Ser Barrett repeats.

"Average build, dark hair, not sure if it was black or dark brown, very pale, seemed almost...mousy. I think running away would have been his preferred solution to our...encounter, but we didn't give him a choice. Oh, and he was wearing this." I hold out the necklace Jowan gave me. "I pulled it off him before we headed for town. Thought maybe someone would recognize it."

Ser Barrett practically snatches it from my grasp, examines the rune, rubs his thumb over the smooth side, and then lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank the Maker for that."

"What?" the woman templar asks.

"This belonged to a blood mage I've been tracking for a year. If he's really dead, my task is done for me. The Knight-Commander will be pleased." He looks at Zevran and then me. "Do you think you could remember where you encountered this mage? Could you show me? Just so I can be sure he's dead before I make my report."

"Indeed." Zevran nods, as do I. He waits as I stand, and then we lead the templars off. Now is when it gets interesting.

**oOo**

We return to the site of our pretended battle with Barrett and the other templer-Ry-something, Barrett called her-close behind us. When we arrive, I breathe a sigh of relief. The templars assume it's because we managed to remember where we fought the blood mage. I let them think that, even though it's really because the trees fell squarely on top of the corpse Zevran "recruited" to our cause. Though the flames have burned themselves out, they did their job. You can tell the body is human, but there's not enough left to identify it as anyone specific.

Barrett kneels next to it, closing his eyes. I know he can sense the after-effects of all the magic. Zevran and I stand to the side and watch. _Maker, let him believe us... please..._ It takes a physical effort to not clench my hands into nervous fists. _Please..._

"You say you startled him?" Barrett asks, looking back over at us.

"Yes." I nod. "He startled us, well, me at least, as well. I wasn't expecting there to be anyone out here."

"If you don't mind me asking, Warden, why were you not traveling on the road?" His tone is respectful yet curious-but not suspicious.

I gesture toward Zevran. "He keeps getting us chased out of towns. The...the ladies love him. Their men-" I shrug, "-not so much. He's gotten us chased out of three towns, and some of those men were more than merely unhappy. One or two could be described as 'murderous'. I was concerned they might still be following us."

"The nearest town is twenty miles back," points out the female templar.

"They were really mad." I don't like her. Her whole attitude, like she thinks she has the final word of truth on everything and everyone else is an imbecile, gets under my skin. "We also figured to cut out a loop of the road. Going around the woods would have taken almost twice as long." She still glares suspiciously, but she stays silent.

Barrett stands, nudging the charred corpse with the toe of his boot. "Well, he's definitely dead, under that lot. Hardly even recognizable. My thanks, Warden. It seems you never cease to aid Ferelden."

"You are most welcome, Ser Barrett," I reply crossing my arms over my chest as I return his bow, "But it was pure chance we encountered him." I can hardly believe it. My harebrained scheme came off without a hitch. It actually _**worked**_. They really believed us. "I do wonder something, though, ser."

"What might that be?" Barrett raises an eyebrow at me as we begin the trek back to town.

I bite my lip sheepishly. "I...I wonder if I might keep the necklace? The symbol is quite interesting, and-"

"You want a token from your victory?" he laughs. "Of course, my lady." He hands back Jowan's necklace. "It is every warrior's right. Or rogue, as the case appears to be."

"It is indeed." I smile at him. We walk the rest of the way in silence. I'm glad the templars have taken the lead, because I can't stop smirking. We did it. It worked. _They __**believed**__ us. Sweet sodding Andraste, they actually believed us._ I tighten my grip around the necklace, glad I'll be able to give it back to Jowan when we rendezvous on the far side of town. It seemed important to him.

"One last question, to satisfy my curiosity, Ser Barrett," I begin as our feet cover the last bit of ground between the forest and the town.

He smiles as he turns to face me. "Yes, my lady?"

"This blood mage...what was his name?"

He frowns briefly, trying to remember. "Jowan, I believe."

I nod. "Thank you." Zevran and I decline invitations to pass the rest of the day-and night-in the tavern. The thought of a real bed is tantalizing beyond belief, but I would feel too guilty to actually sleep knowing there's a reformed blood mage waiting for us who's probably near frantic with worry.

"You know, my dear, darting off too quickly would only make us-and by consequence our story-appear suspect," Zevran points out in a whisper as I open my mouth to refuse even one round 'on the house' at the tavern.

He has a point. _Sorry, Jowan. You'll have to wait a little longer._ "One drink. Just one."

He chuckles mischieveously and leads the way. "Of course, Rahna, my dear minx."

_A/N: Oooh, Zevran + alcohol...this is gonna be __**fun**__! And Rahna + alcohol will be even more fun! Keeping in mind her mental comment about how fast she gets drunk...*grins wickedly and rubs hands together with fiendish glee* heh heh heh heh And also, if you spot any problems with this scheme that I missed through over-proofreading, let me know so I can fix them. ;D_


	12. Antivan Brandy

**Alright, I give up. Rahna and I have come to an agreement: it's too bloody hard to call Jowan 'Levyn'. So, I'm going to go back and change it where necessary in previous chapters and from now on, she's going to call him Jowan, whether speaking to him or narrating, and the only time she'll call him Levyn will be if introducing him to someone or something like that. Calling him Levyn is screwing with the flow of the story in my head too much.**

12. Antivan Brandy

Apparently 'one drink' means something entirely different to Zevran then it does to me. Or maybe he meant _**me**_ have one drink, knowing I would nurse it long enough he could have three or four. I'm glad this is all on the house, thanks to the bartender recognizing me and refusing to accept a single copper from us for our drinks. He even pulled out his "special stash". Zev chuckled and my disinterest and took a closer look.

By the time we leave, despite the fact he's had five drinks to my one-and is still clutching a mostly full bottle of Antivan brandy from the bartender's specal stash-it's hard to decide who's tipsy-er. I think that's a word. If not, it is now. I guess I'm slightly worse off than him. He's not slurring his words like me. Or walking in zig-zags. Or _giggling_.

He does, however, lean over and kiss me just before we reach the woods. And before I know what I'm doing, I let him, actually savoring the warmth of his lips on mine. For a second, until I realize what I'm doing. That sobers me up enough I pull back like I've been burned. I shoot him a withering look, straighten my spine, and walk away without a word. Trying not to let him see the confusion on my face, which I can feel turning cherry red. As much as I don't want to admit it to myself, part of me enjoyed that kiss. A good-sized part of me. And I feel horribly, horribly guilty for that. The thoughts whispering and worming through my mind aren't helping at all.

_Traitor._

**oOo**

The rest of the walk to where Jowan is hiding is made in awkward silence. That's a first. Usually silences don't last long between us, and when they do they aren't awkward. I think I need another drink. _No, you don't. That would only make this worse._ I still can't help but eye the Antivan brandy swinging from Zev's hand as we walk._ Maybe I __**want **__to get drunk. Maybe I want to just forget that I let Zevran kiss me. Oh, Maker, I let him __**kiss me**__. I'm sorry, Alistair._ I can't believe I did that. _Getting drunk won't make it go away. You still did it._ I shake my head to silence the internal debate. I'm not going to get drunk. I'm _**not**_. That won't solve anything.

We meet up with Jowan, and I forcibly cram my jumbled emotions into a back corner of my mind and smile at him. "It worked."

"Really?" he asks in disbelief.

I chuckle at his incredulous expression. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No, I...I didn't mean it like tha-"

"Jowan," I interrupt, "I was kidding."

"Oh." He grins sheepishly.

"I was equally shocked, believe me," I reassure him as we move on. There's enough daylight left we can cover more ground before we have to make camp. "We caught a lucky break. There was a templar from the Circle Tower in town. Throw in a rough description, your necklace-which you can have back by the way-" I hand it back to him, "and it was a cinch." I shake my head. "I still can't believe that harebrained scheme went off so perfectly."

"Well, I for one am glad it is behind us," Zevran comments, swigging a mouthful of the brandy.

"What is _**that**_?" Jowan asks, one eyebrow arching.

"Antivan brandy. Don't touch it, " I warn, "or you'll be drunk faster than you can say 'Andraste's mercy'."

"Don't worry. No danger there," he chuckles. "Magic and alcohol don't mix anyway."

"You learn that the hard way?"

He shakes his head, wry smile twisting his lips. "No. Advice from those wiser-or crazier-than I am has helped me avoid more things than I really want to think about right now."

"Ah. Well, anyone not Antivan needs to watch out for that stuff. It's bloody dangerous."

"You forget, minx, Oghren didn't seem bothered by it," Zev points out, taking another swig of the brandy before pushing the stopper in and stowing it in his pack.

"Oghren was..._Oghren_," I retort, grinning. "He doesn't sodding count."

"Why not?" Zevran baits. "He wasn't Antivan."

"Um, who _**is**_ Oghren?" Jowan interrupts before I open my mouth.

"He's a dwarf who traveled with me and...everybody else while we were fighting the Blight. Joined us in Orzammar." I smirk. "Loves anything alcoholic."

"Including Antivan brandy," Zevran chips in.

"Shut up." I can't help but smile, the_...incident _on the way forgotten-for now, at least. Zev's teasing grin-smirk almost-demands that it be so.

**oOo**

_"Do you think you might ever...feel the same way about me?"_

_"I...I don't know. It's too soon to tell."_

_"Well, is it too soon for this?"_

**oOo**

I jolt myself out of the memory of our first kiss, feeling my heart ache all over again. It seemed so _real_, for a moment I thought I had gone back in time and had a chance to do it over over again. But no. The sensation of Alistair kissing me, holding me close, is locked in the past. I lean forward to rest my head in my hands as the blood starts pounding. _Damn_. The thought of that kiss somehow manages to bring forth the memory of Zev kissing me earlier. Which I do not want to be thinking about now. We've set up camp for the night; soon I'll either be taking watch or going to sleep, and neither of those are things I want to do while wrestling with the emotions involved with that kiss. I still can't believe I let him do that. The feeling I betrayed Alistair crashes over me again, an unstoppable wave of regret and anger-bordering on _**rage**_-at myself. I can't stand this another _**second**_. I need to get drunk, badly as part of me screams that will end. Headaches, mouth-full-of-cotton feeling, lack of will to do anything will just be the beginning. But I don't sodding _care_. Almost before I know what I'm doing, I snatch the remainder of Zevran's brandy out of his hand. "Give me that."

**oOo**

When she said Antivan brandy was bloody dangerous, she wasn't kidding. Jowan wasn't sure whether to make himself scarce or stick around to keep Rahna from doing anything crazy. Or at least crazier than flinging herself into Zevran's lap and kissing him full on the mouth. That in itself was uncharacteristically crazy. He hadn't been traveling with the two elves long, but there have been enough hints from both of them-some subtle, some decidedly _**not**__-_-that it wasn't too hard to figure out that, while they were friends, Zevran wanted something more out of her, and Rahna refused to cave in. How long term a 'something more', Jowan couldn't begin to guess, but Rahna continuously shut down all the Antivan's attempts. _There must be someone else, someone she loves_. The determination in her eyes, the looks that fuel her stubborn refusals, spoke of undying love for someone. He knew that look. _But who? Where is he?_ He remembered the protective way the man with her at Redcliffe-Alistair, did the dark-haired woman call him?- had stood and thinks he knows. But if they were in love, where was he? Why wasn't he with her? A vague-recent-memory played at the edge of Jowan's mind; the last battle Rahna had fought to slay the archdemon.

He watched her, knowing she won't believe him tomorrow when informed of what she did and said with the brandy loosening her tongue.

**oOo**

I wish the world would hold still. Feeling like you're about to fall over is disconcerting enough when you're standing. To feel like this while sitting down is even worse. I've never been this drunk. Ever. Even the time we figured out Alistair and I got drunk about three times faster than anyone else in our little band, I wasn't this mind-numbingly drunk. Giggly and-so Alistair told me later-very... _**fun, **_but nothing like this.

"Zev..." My fingers tighten on his arm as I mumble his name. He doesn't seem to mind.

"Yes, my dear minx?"

I'm too disoriented to chew him out for the tone he said that in. "Help." Resting my hand on his arm turns into leaning against him as the world picks up speed. His skin feels almost soft under my sweaty fingers. I loosen my grip slightly, running my hand up his arm. I look at him, hoping that staring at a fixed point will help me stop the world's spinning thing. Instead, when I meet his eyes, the look he's giving me makes life tips sideways in more ways than one.

The next thing I know, I'm in his lap, pulling him into an absolutely desperate kiss that-much as I loathe admitting it, even to myself-beats most of the kisses I shared with Alistair by about half._ Maker's breath, Rahna, what in the name of Andraste are you doing? I don't know, but __**damn**__ Zev's a good kisser._ That's the last thought I'm fully aware of having for the rest of the night.

**oOo**

Zevran didn't know what to think when Rahna threw herself on him. He wanted her. She knew that. Obviously the brandy had affected her more than she expected, because Rahna would never normally act like this. However, when a dangerous, skilled, and _**beautiful**_ woman flung herself on him, who was he to refuse? Especially one he had so desired for such a long time. So he kissed her back, with just as much passion, but not nearly so much desperation.

"Y'know, Zev...I've never thanked you...fer stayin' with me." Rahna's voice slurred slightly, and she shook her head as if trying to clear cobwebs off her brain.

"No thanks are necessary, _cara mia_." He only dared that because he was sure of two things: Rahna didn't speak Antivan, and she was too drunk to actually remember what he said to ask him later what he'd said. When she kissed him again, Zevran let his hands slide up her arms to caress her shoulders. She wound one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into the kiss so fiercely it took him by surprise. They tumbled off the log that had been serving as a seat and landed in the dust.

Rahna giggled. "Oops. That's my bad."

"Who said it was bad, minx?" Zevran purred, lightly tracing one hand down her face, more than willing to take this as far as it would go.

"True," she murmured, diving in for another kiss.

Zevran savored it, briefly wondering where the mage had got to before he decided not to worry about it. There were other things that demanded his attention.

_A/N: Soooooo...*clears throat* I think I'm going to try posting Aftermath chapters on Tuesdays instead of posting Thursdays with Perceptions. And I make no promises as to where...something might go between Rahna and Zev. *whistles innocently* None at all. _


	13. Nothing More

13. Nothing More

_The small handful of coppers, accented by a few stray silvers, clinked into his hand. _

_"No, I-I can't take this. I didn't want money. I just wanted to help," he protested, in direct opposition to his grumbling and very empty stomach, trying to give the coins back._

_"You did," the old man replied with a knowing smile. "Let me help you in return."_

_Jowan was torn. "But you'll need it."_

_"Son, I may be old, but I ain't senile just yet. I know mages outside the Tower are a no-no. Which means you probably have templars lookin' for you, which means you can't do anything honest t'earn money so you don't starve t'death. And you helped us anyway, despite the danger you'd get caught. I also have a feelin' Levyn probably isn't your real name. Now, I've got family to look after me, thanks to you. I don't need this money as badly as you do. Take it."_

_Jowan was about to tell him no again, when his stomach let out a very pointed growl. He sighed and acquiesed. "Alright. Thank you." _

_"It's the least I could do. You saved our hides at least three times. And son-" he leveled a pointed stare at the grateful mage, "-don't make me regret it."_

_"I won't," Jowan promised. And he meant it._

**oOo**

Jowan let the tree behind him take his weight as the memory swirled to the surface. The old man had been one of very few to actually try to give him something for helping them. He hadn't minded that most seemed not to think of it, take him for granted. He wasn't protecting them because he expected to get paid or rewarded. He did it to make up for all the mistakes he'd made. It was his act of repentence, his way of showing the Maker how sorry he was, nothing more. He helped refugees until someone in the last group he escorted told the templars about him when they made it to their destination. He barely got out of that town alive. He'd decided to lay low for a couple months, but then he ran into Rahna-or would it be she and Zevran ran into him?-and his original plan was completely scrapped in favor of traveling with the one person in all Ferelden that didn't want him dead.

Almost as if his thoughts of her coerced her into moving, Rahna crawled out of her tent and groped her way to one of the logs they had used as seats the night before. Apparently, Antivan brandy was brutally unforgiving when it came to hangovers. The elf moaned as she levered herself onto the seat and rested her forehead against her knees.

Jowan couldn't help the sympathetic half-smile that pulled at his mouth as he pushed away from the tree, reaching back when the bark snagged at his hair. _Better see if there's anything I can do for her._

**oOo**

The next time I decide to steal Zev's brandy, I'm going to remind myself of this feeling. Hopefully that will change my mind real quick. Maker, I _**hate**_ hangovers. I rest my head on my knees for a second before attempting to reach a more vertical position, lifting my head and letting my arms hang down between my knees. My head feels too heavy for my neck and droops low again, until its almost resting against my arms. _What was I thinking?_ The simple answer, of course, being I wasn't.

"Anything I can do to help?" Jowan almost makes me jump out of my skin. I didn't see him coming.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" I demand, just barely managing to keep the growl out of my voice. I wince at how thin my frayed nerves are. I didn't mean to sound angry.

"I wasn't sneaking. I-I mean, I...thought you saw me," he protests, sounding just as confused as he looks, and I realize he doesn't know.

"Oh, right. I didn't tell you." I can feel myself blushing. "Sorry for snapping."

"It's alright. And what didn't you tell me?" He sits down next to me.

"I can't see out of my left eye. One more lovely parting gift from that sodding archdemon," I mumble. _It wasn't happy taking Alistair, it had to take one of my eyes too._

"Oh. I didn't...it doesn't look any different."

"One small favor the Maker decided to grant me," I mutter, "I don't look like a crazy, battle-scarred war veteran. Or, well, not _too_ much," I amend, tracing one finger down the scar by my eye. Even the light touch sends my head pounding again. "Unngh. You don't happen to know any cures for hangovers, do you? Magical or otherwise? 'Cause if you want to help, that's really all I need."

Jowan smiles apologetically and shakes his head. "No. Not really. Sorry."

"Well, considering what you said about magic and alcohol not mixing well, maybe it's a good thing you never had to find out." I hesitate. "What...what exactly did I do last night? Or do I not want to know?"

"Um..." He looks extremely reluctant to tell me. Uh-oh. "What's the last thing you remember doing?"

I feel my skin burn. "Telling Zev I never thanked him for sticking around... and kissing him."

"Oh." His expression makes me very nervous.

"C'mon, Jowan, now my curiosity is piqued." I lean forward, feeling my headache recede a little now that I have something else to focus on. "Tell me. Or did you not stick around?"

"Oh, I did. For a while. I didn't want you to do anything crazy."

"Thanks. Your concern is noted...and touching. But?"

"But, um, I made myself scarce when you two ended up on the ground."

I groan and lift my hands high enough to bury my crimson face in them. My headache's back. _Oh, dear __**Maker,**__ I swear I will never touch that stuff again._ "Oh, no."

He nods. "You were...um, pretty...well, _**forward**_..."

_Could this get any worse?_

"Zevran didn't seem to mind indulging you, either."

Apparently it can_. _Now I need to go talk with him. Find out how far things went. "I assume that's when you made yourself scarce?"

He nods. "Mm-hm."

"Thanks for that. Now that I've completely betrayed-" I stop the words and force myself to my feet, feeling sick for more reason than one, "Do you know where Zev is?"

Jowan gives me a Look. "He went that way when he got up." He motions off into the surrounding woods. "I don't know how far or how straight, but that's where he was heading."

"Thanks. Ignore any hollering or shrieking you may hear from that direction sometime soon, please."

He smiles slightly. "Going to give him hell?"

"Depends." I sigh. "I hope I don't have to."

**oOo**

Zev is engaged in target practice when I find him. He found a good sized tree to be his target and is hurling daggers at it with more passion than usual.

I wait until he doesn't have one in his hand. "Zevran."

He whirls around, wary expression fading to a grin when he sees me. "I see the sleeping beauty awakes."

"I'm not in the mood for games. We need to talk."

"Oh?" He gives me his full attention.

I try to ignore what the sheen of sweat coating his torso is doing to something inside me. "About last night."

His grin takes on a borderline lecherous twist. "What about last night, my dear Warden, hm?"

"How...how far did...things go between us?" I stare very intently at the ground as I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

He chuckles. "Ah, you are worried? Never fear, my saucy minx, I did not ravish you as I so long to do. I prefer my women sober, or at least consenting. However, I did not refuse your rather...passionate kisses. If you have always been that skilled, it is no wonder Alis-"

"_**Don't**_!" I clap my hands over my ears as the headache buzzes more violently across my forehead. "Don't say his name!" I feel the tears press the back of my eyes. "Not now, not after I _betrayed _him like that last night." Saying the words makes the unsteady, sick feeling in my stomach swirl, as what I did really sinks in.

"Rahna, my dear, your loyalty to Alistair is touching, but he is dead."

Normally I would have had enough restraint to keep my hand at my side. Normally I would have have been happy to just shoot him a withering looks to beat all others. But with my emotions so raw, I don't even try to stop my hand as it slaps him hard enough his head snaps back. I don't care if it's true. It was harsh, and cold, and did _**not**_ need to be said.

"Don't _**ever**_. Say that._** Again**_."

Zevran doesn't move to rub his face, just shrugs, even as a clear outline of my hand appears on his cheek. "You need to understand, Rahna, my dear. You cannot betray a man who is-"

"_**Stop**_!" The tears are nearly choking me. "I _**know **_he's dead! But it's barely been two months, Zev. I'm no more ready to move on than I was by Dragon's Peak!"

He sighs. "Alas. So any hope of last night being repeated-"

"Is non-existant," I cut him off, finality rich in my tone. "Last night was a mistake, made because I was so sodding drunk I didn't know what I was doing." I sigh, realizing how that must have sounded. It's not that I don't care about him at all. "We're friends, Zevran. But that's all we'll ever be. Nothing more."

I suppose it is my fault. Back when we first met, I joked about ravishing him in celebration upon defeating the archdemon, pretended to be unaware of his feelings for me until he asked me point blank about my relationship with Alistair. It was only then that I told him I loved Alistair and that was not about to change. I guess you could say I led him on. But I did make it very clear that there was nothing more than friendship between us when he did bring it up.

However, that doesn't silence the stubborn whisper in one corner of my heart._ That kiss was pretty sodding enjoyable though..._ _What are you, crazy? Are you seriously thinking __**that way**__ about Zevran? Maker's breath, Rahna, what is __**wrong**__ with you? No, of course I'm not! I'm still trying to come to terms with ...with...you-know-who being...you-know-what. I wouldn't think like that about anyone else! Never! We are __**just**__ friends! Friends and __**nothing **__more!_ Somehow I don't totally convince myself. My emotions are all jumbled, my head is pounding, and I'm beyond confused. Time to focus on something else. Anything else.

"Zevran?" I bite my lip.

"Yes, Rahna?"

I dredge up a memory from last night, one playing so vaugely on the edge of my consciousness I'm more than half inclined to think I imagined it. "What does _cara mia_ mean?"

_A/N: Yes, I admit it, I am evil. ;P And I apologize for lack of plot development. That seemed like a nice place for a chapter break. There should be more plottiness next chapter, or the one after that... I hope._


	14. Loyalty

14. Loyalty

Zevran's face goes carefully blank. "When did you hear that?"

I shake my head. "Don't play with me, Zev. You know when I heard it. You said it to me last night. Now, please, tell me. What does _cara mia_ mean?"

His expression makes me think I'm going to wish I hadn't asked. But instead of answering, he walks over to the tree and wrenches out his daggers, all clustered neatly around the knot serving as his target.

I rub my forehead and try again. "Zevran, I have the worst headache I've ever had in my life. Please don't push it, or I'll say something nasty that I don't really mean."

He sighs. "Very well, Warden. _Cara mia_ means 'my beloved' or 'my dear', depending on who you listen to."

I bite back the sharp words roaring up my throat and try to keep my voice level. "And how did you mean it last night?"

"Does it really matter?" He turns to face me. "Will you not still wish to strangle me either way?"

"It's quite possible. Chalk this up to curiosity."

"Very well. Last night I meant it as the former of those two definitions. 'My beloved'." He shrugs. "You were...quite drunk at that point. It slipped out, and I did not worry about you recalling it. Alas, your memory is better than I thought."

Rather then do something I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I will regret later, I clench my hands, grind my teeth together, and stalk back to camp without another word, leaving him to his target practice.

** oOo**

I plunk down on what I guess has become my log now and bury my face in my hands with a groan. "Oh, Maker, why me?"

"Didn't go well, huh?"

I shake my head in response to Jowan's sympethetic inquiry. "No. I'm never touching that stuff again. It makes life too complicated." I rub my forehead, trying in vain to banish the stubborn headache still pounding away at my sanity.

"Oh?"

"Well, it was going alright, I guess, until he said something totally unnecessary, even if...even if it was true, it went downhill from there, and ended with finding out he called me 'my beloved' in Antivan because he thought I was too drunk to remember."

"Oh." He's silent for almost a whole minute. I can tell curiosity is killing him. "What did he say? If you don't mind telling me."

I sigh, mentally weighing how much I feel like talking about Alistair right now. "He said my loyalty to Alistair was touching, but he's dead." I give vent to a wry chuckle at his expression.

"That's a little harsh."

"And not something I want to hear while suffering a headache," I mutter.

"So who was Alistair?"

_**There's**__ a hard question to answer_. How do I sum up someone like him? I know I can't, but I also know the longer I talk the more it'll hurt. "I'll make you a deal."

"What?"

I take a deep breath. "I'll tell you about Alistair if you tell me about Lily."

I've never seen anyone go _that_ pale _that_ fast. "How did you-"

"You talk in your sleep," I interrupt. "I snore, Zevran's always tense as a new bowstring, and you talk in your sleep. And as much as you say her name, I just figured she was...important to you."

He nods, the regret I haven't seen for a while showing again. "Yes, she was." He's silent for a few seconds before adding, "And you have a deal." He sounds so reluctant about it that I offer to go first. He takes me up on it.

"Where do I begin?" I laugh. "I met Alistair when I was recruited to the Grey Wardens and arrived at Ostagar. He made some joke about the Blight bringing people together and I think I fell head over heels in love right then..." I tell him our whole story. I skim over Redcliffe because he already knows most of that, and I'm sure he doesn't particularly want to remember, and I skim the end of our story, simply saying Alistair died fighting the archdemon. Protecting me. "He was the most loyal person I ever knew. He would have followed me anywhere, And did, actually. He was...he was my conscience. Any time I was unsure what was really the 'right' thing to do, or maybe leaning towards a...less moral solution, I could always count on him to call me out on it and help me make the right choice." I chuckle. "I think letting you go was the one thing I did that he didn't agree with. All that templar training..." I chuckle. "Old habits die hard."

"Rahna, I think you're the only person in Ferelden crazy enough to trust a blood mage."

"_Former _blood mage," I remind him. "Or is there something you aren't telling me?"

Jowan shakes his head. "No. But still, you'd never seen me before in your life. What... what made you trust me when the man you loved was so against it?"

I stare at the ground while I think about that for a second. I can't remember, and I can tell this is important to him, so I want to answer. Finally, I look up at him. " I could tell you were sorry. There was...I don't know, _something_ in your eyes that made me believe you really meant it." I shrug. "Well, there's my half of things. Your turn. Tell me about Lily. I'm assuming you met her before you left the Circle tower?"

He nods. "I did. You could say she was part of my reason for wanting to leave."

"Well, how'd you meet her if you were still in the tower?" I'm more than a little curious.

"She was an initiate-"

"As in a _Chantry_ initiate?" I try not to let my mouth hang open, but sweet _**Andraste**_ he's got guts. "Isn't that sort of a no-no?"

"No 'sort of' about it," Jowan mutters. "It was flat out forbidden, which Miri was very quick to point out when I finally told her about Lily." He shrugs. "I didn't care. I loved her."

"Yeah, it can be hard to make your heart understand silly little things like rules and expectations," I agree, remembering all of Wynne's lectures about Alistair and me. "So, what happened?"

"Well, for you to really understand, I'd need to tell you the _whole_ story, not just the part with Lily."

I shrug. "I've got all the time in the world, and maybe it'll distract me from my headache."

"Well, then, anything to be of service." Jowan tries to smile, but it doesn't quite make it to his eyes. This is hard for him, harder than it was for me. I have a feeling he's at least partly responsible for what must be an unhappy ending. But he still tells me. And I listen. He doesn't take his eyes off the ground as he talks.

About his mother screaming, calling him an abomination, how his father left him at the chantry.

About meeting Miri two years after he was sent to the Circle, how she was his friend-best friend-from the second she walked in the apprentices' dormitory.

About the first time he heard about blood magic, when he started dabbling, just a little bit, because he thought it would make him a better mage. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

He doesn't slow down until he gets to Lily. He trips over his words three times in the space of five sentences, his eyes moving from the ground to the scar across his left palm as he talks about her. About how his whole world seemed to spin sideways the first time he saw her, how long it took him to finally get up the nerve to talk to her. How they talked about everything: the Chant of Light, magic, leaving the tower. How much he loved her.

And I can see it in his eyes; he really _**loved **_her. But I don't say a word. He let me spill my whole story without interrupting, the least I can do is return the favor.

It gets more difficult as he talks about when Miri went for her Harrowing, how worried he was about her, while wondering why she'd gone for hers first when he'd been there longer. Lily confirming his worst fears, he was going to be made Tranquil. I remember meeting Owain and shudder picturing Jowan like _that_. I think I'd rather die first. I think _he'd_ rather die first.

They asked Miri for help. Now that she was a mage, not an apprentice, she could go places he couldn't, help them destroy his phylactery so the templars couldn't track him down. Escape. He and Lily could go somewhere far away, get married, and just live.

"But everything fell apart then." He rubs his thumb hard against the scar. "Greagoir and Irving knew somehow. They...they were waiting when we left the basement. I wouldn't have done anything, I swear, but Greagoir thought Lily knew...about my being a blood mage, and he was going to send her to Aeonar. She didn't know. I never told her. I never told _anyone_, not even Miri. And I-I was trying to protect her."

"Blood magic?" I ask softly, already guessing the answer. He nods mutely, pressing his thumb harder against the scar. "Is that where this came from?" I reach over and brush my thumb gently over the scar, nudging his out of the way.

Jowan nods again. "The way she looked at me...it haunted me for weeks. I...I betrayed her. Broke her heart. And lost her in the act of trying to save her." He shakes his head, looking miserable. "Her loyalty to the Chantry ran too deep for her to accept blood magic. She didn't want anything to do with me. So I left. I ran away like a coward and left her and Miri to suffer for helping me." He sighs. "Rahna, what _did_ you see in me? Why didn't you just leave me to die? I deserve it."

"Jowan." I swallow the lump forming in my throat. No one deserves to be _this_ miserable. "I don't think you do." I listen to the little voice whispering in my head and slide over so I'm sitting next to him. I don't let go of his hand. "I know you did something, a lot of somethings, wrong. But everybody makes mistakes, and I've never met someone as anxious to make it right as you." He doesn't look convinced. _Oh, Maker, what do I say?_ I sigh. "Jowan, d'you know why I was recruited into the Grey Wardens?"

"No. You never told me."

"Duncan recruited me to keep me from going to prison. I lived in the Denerim Alienage, and I killed the Arl's son-and most of his guards-when he kidnapped and raped my cousin." I don't say anything about Nelaros. This hurts enough just talking about Alistair. I don't want to add in the 'what ifs?' that invariably come when I think of the first person who loved me enough to die for me. "And, Maker help me, I enjoyed it. It felt _good_. I'm not sorry at all." I look up at him. "So, I may have trusted a blood mage, but _you_ trust an unrepentant murderer. At least you're **_sorry_**."

He shakes his head. "That's different."

"Not too terribly. Look, I'm not saying it's a perfect parallel. But it _is_ close enough for the sake of illustration," I point out. "Work with me here. I'm trying to make you feel better."

It's a weak attempt at humor, but a small smile still tugs the corners of his mouth. "I know. Thanks."

I decide to wait until later to ask him about the rest of his story. I've put him through enough for one day. "I guess we should try to get somewhere today, so it doesn't feel like a total waste." I push myself to my feet. As I walk away, I realize my headache's subsided to a bare whisper of what it was.

_A/N: My stupid internet is not cooperating this week! Grr...Hence this being a day later than usual... Apologies if large chunks of dialogue aren't your cup of tea. I felt like this was a conversation they needed to have. And I will admit it was mostly to get Jowan's side of the story in. It's always bugged me that if you do the mage origin, the little Codex entry thingie you get upon arriving at Ostagar refers to Lily as the woman Jowan **claimed** to love, as if he really didn't. He may lie if you ask him about being a blood mage, but I personally think he really did love Lily. Just from things he'll say depending on convo choices and things like that. *sigh* Sorry. End rant. *sheepish grin* I plan to have more A) plot and B) Zevran in the next chapter. Key word being plan. Rahna is rather fond of steering me in different directions then planned..._


	15. Don't Start

15. Don't Start

Zevran's mad at me. If you didn't know him very well, you'd miss the extra dose of tension flaring in his posture, the way he's obviously clenching his teeth. But, since I do know him very well, I catch those and the dozen other little signs that clue me in as he strides ahead. I also think I know why. But with the lingering remnants of my headache still playing with my sanity, I better wait a little longer before I talk to him. So I don't say something else completely blunt and tactless.

"Oh, Maker, what a mess," I mumble. _No one to blame but yourself, Rahna, darling_, one of the voices in my head reminds me._ Oh, don't start._

"What?" Jowan shoots me a sideways look.

"Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself, which I do a lot." I nod at Zevran's back. "I think I owe someone an apology."

He raises an eyebrow. "What for?"

"Eh, some things I said after he made a...certain remark during our chat this morning." I smile sheepishly. "I can be incredibly blunt when I'm in a bad mood. Well, I'm always blunt. It just gets worse when I'm in a bad mood."

"Good to know," Jowan comments. "So what're you waiting for?"

"Every last vestige of this sodding headache to be gone, for one thing." I roll my shoulders. "For the right moment. For both of us to cool off a little bit more, so I don't say something else it would be better to leave unsaid."

"Ah." There's more to that then simple agreement, but I don't say anything.

**oOo**

I can't put this off any longer. Zev's been subtly ignoring me all day, which makes me think what I said cut deeper than I realized. Jowan catches the way I'm looking at Zev and volunteers to go find firewood after we've set up camp. As he disappears into the woods, I sit down next to Zev. Now for the hard part.

"Zev?"

"Yes, Warden?" His tone is bored, but I can sense the edge in his voice not too many others would pick up and it makes me wince.

I sigh. _Just say it, for Andraste's sake!_ "I'm sorry."

"Beg pardon?" He turns to look at me, one eyebrow arching skyward.

"I'm sorry if what I said earlier hurt you." I lean forward, resting my elbows against my knees. "Blame it on my headache. It made me rather irritable. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know. I also know you are an incredibly blunt person." He shrugs. "Were any of the things you said untrue?"

I think for a minute, running through everything I said. "No. I am sorry I slapped you, though."

He chuckles at that. "Rahna, my dear, I assure you I have been slapped before, though only once harder than _that_, and probably will be again. Consider it forgiven."

I smile at the casual 'my dear', but notice that he hasn't said anything about the other part of my apology. "But what about what I said?"

He doesn't answer.

"Zev, come one, I know at least some of it hurt you, or else you wouldn't have been in such a mood all day. I know you well enough to know that."

He sighs heavily. "You have become entirely too perceptive, minx."

"You're the one who taught me how to really notice _everything._ It's your fault," I tease.

"Point taken. And regarding what you said-" Another heavy sigh "-if it was true, why need you apologize?"

I roll my eyes. "Because I know_ something _I said hurt you," I repeat. "Maker's breath, Zev, just admit it! What was it?"

"Alright, my dear, alright." He looks me straight in the eye. "How are you so certain we shall never be more than friends?"

Sod it all, it _would_ be _**that**_. "I...I just am." I take a deep breath and blow it out. "Zev, aside from the fact I am still not ready to move on yet, the way you seduce every pretty female you meet within seconds of introduction and leave the next day-sometimes without so much as a goodbye-doesn't exactly bode well for a long term relationship. I mean, unless there's something about you I don't know. And that's something I want."

He nods, conceding my point. "I see. You want someone who will love you and only you, heart and soul, their whole life."

"Yes. Like...Alistair did." To my surprise, it doesn't feel like ripping my heart out of my chest to say his name. It still _hurts_, but not as quite much. That bit of progress is probably due to talking to Jowan earlier. "Just the fact that you said you wouldn't mind sharing..." I sigh. "We have different ideas about love, Zev. I don't think it would end well. I want someone who _won't_ share, who I wouldn't have to share."

"Very well. I understand, _il mi amica_."

"Are we okay now?" I don't add_ "as we'll ever be"_, but I think it. I know something changed about our relationship, there's going to be a distance that wasn't there before. Like looking across a rift caused by an earthquake; damage done that can't be ignored. And it's my fault._ Damn that brandy!_

"I believe so." Zevran nods.

"Good." I rest my hand lightly on his arm. "I value your friendship, Zev. I don't want to lose that because I did something stupid."

He smirks. "Yes, who was it that was warning our mage friend of the dangers of Antivan brandy?"

"Oh, shut up." I can't help but smile as I playfully sock him in the arm, the tension strung between my shoulder blades dissolving now that we've dealt with that.

**oOo**

The next few days are mostly walking, and me trying to figure out a good time to ask Jowan about the rest of his story. I can't find one. It never feels like the right time to ask him, and maybe I'm just a tad afraid of what I'll hear.

I think I know as much as I need to of what happened between his leaving the tower and when I found him in the Arl's dungeon. He probably doesn't want to talk about it, either. And I wouldn't blame him. If _I_ got played by someone like Loghain, it wouldn't exactly be my favorite topic of conversation. And that's putting it lightly. But I am curious what he did after I let him go. There's something...different about him, something tougher than the skittish, blood-flecked man I chose to trust almost a year ago. Probably the result of whatever he had to do to survive.

I'm all too familiar with what _that_ takes sometimes. Thoughts of Morrigan flit through my mind, and I shake them away before I start down the 'if-only-I-had' path again, my fingers coming up to curl around the amulet bouncing against my chest. _Don't start. __He wouldn't have wanted to have anything to do with blood magic anyway_, I remind myself.

_Unless __**you**__ asked him._ The insidious whisper slides in, and I clench my teeth against the fresh threat of tears. _Maker's breath, I thought I was done with this!_

The hand on my shoulder jolts me out of my almost-pity party. "Rahna, you okay?"

I bite my lower lip and offer Jowan half of a watery smile. "I'm fine. I just...something reminded me of him, is all."

"Oh." There's far more understanding in that one syllable than I could get from anyone else.

I scrub away the few escaping tears. "Come on. Zev gets too much futher ahead, I'll never catch him 'til he stops. He'll tease, and I'd rather avoid that." The laugh is only half forced. The idea of what he'd say is amusing, and something I honestly _would_ like to avoid.

Despite shooting me a look that says plainly he _knows_ I'm not telling him everything, Jowan doesn't say a word as we catch up with Zevran. I _can't_ tell him. I wish I could. I have a feeling if I told someone about the real reason I blame myself, I would stop thinking about it so much. But since the explanation is twisted up in a Grey Warden secret, I have to bury it deep and pray it doesn't drive me mad. _Wish I had another Warden to talk to._ But I am the only one in all of Ferelden, and, unless I magically get my hand on some darkspawn blood and a willing vic-_participant_, that's not about to change. Zevran already told me he doesn't think he'll ever join, and I have a feeling Jowan would say the same. I shake my head at the crazy direction my thoughts have taken to think of either of them as Wardens and hurry to catch up to Zev.

**oOo**

Tonight I get first watch. I insist. Zev's been repeatedly taking it, and I finally decide he needs a night where he gets to sleep _some_ before he has to watch. No sooner have I claimed first then Jowan says he'll go second, adding, "And no taking more time than you're supposed to, Rahna. No 'forgetting' to wake me when it's my turn, no 'losing track of time'. Got it?" He gives me a Look.

"How do you know me so sodding well when you've known me for less than a month?" I mutter in mock exasperation, rolling my eyes.

"I'm just a quick study." He comes as close to genuinely smiling as I've ever seen him, before something like the all too familiar regret flickers in his eyes. "Which isn't always a good thing," he sighs.

"Don't start that." I shake my head. "Go to sleep. I promise I'll wake you when it's your turn." I know where his thoughts are heading-Lily, Miri, and blood magic-and I want to cut that off as fast as possible. No pity parties allowed tonight.

He obeys with a final goodnight, and soon his deep breathing lets me know he's asleep. Left with only the crickets and other innocuous night time critters for company, I soon find my thoughts drifting. Less dangerous than during the Blight, but still not the smartest move. Tame as this part of Ferelden may be, there are stil some wild animals around. Getting mauled by a bear because I fell asleep on watch duty is not on my list of things to do with the rest of my life. Of course, said list is undergoing major changes in the aftermath of Fort Drakon, as just about everything on it involved Alistair. Who I no longer have.

Thinking of him brings back the ache but this time there's sweetness mingled with the bitter pain of losing him. Talking about it really help. I wonder idly if talking about Lily made Jowan feel any better. Maybe I'll ask him tomorrow, before we head for West Hill so Zev can try their brandy. Silly reason to travel halfway across the country, maybe. But we don't have anything better to do with ourselves right now. I'll have to go back to Weisshaupt eventually, but I can take another month or so. No rush. Besides, the longer we're traveling together, the more I can talk with Jowan. Which sounds better and better the more I think about it. Maybe I can convince him to forgive himself.

_A/N: I started feeling kinda guilty for the way Rahna ripped into Zev, so I felt it was only right that she apologize. However, as he points out, all of what she said was true(they're never going to be more than friends, his comment about Alistair didn't need to be made, etc). And I'm going to try and get Jowan over all the angst(I wanna see him happy. Can't wait till he smiles...), but it may take a while. The dude's got a **lot** of stuff he messed up and needs to get over._


	16. Side Trip

16. Side Trip

Our trip to West Hill doesn't happen as planned. I decide we need to detour to Warden's Keep. It's sort of on the way, and I need Mikhael to repair some things. Yes, there are blacksmiths and weaponsmiths in probably all of the villages we pass on the way, but as I explain to Jowan, none of them are anywhere near as good as Mikhael. The man is the best I've ever seen. Well, Wade may be slightly better with armor. But since Herran won't let me in their shop any more, can't very well go to him. Besides, I want as little to do with Denerim as possible for a while. It has the highest concentration of people who would recognize me on sight, thanks to Anora's 'ceremony'.

"How did you even find this place?" Jowan asks as we camp in the mountains. "I mean, it's not exactly on the way to anywhere important."

I chuckle, scooting closer to the fire. "A merchant, Levi Dryden found our campsite about...oh what was that, Zev, a week after we left Redcliffe for the Brecilian Forest?"

He nods. "I think so. Maybe a little longer, even."

"Close enough," I shrug. "Anyway, he tells me this story, about how his great-great-great-great grandmother was the Warden-Commander all these years ago, when the Grey Wardens were thrown out of Ferelden. He had a map that led to the base where the Wardens made a last stand against the king's men, and wanted to see if there was anything to clear his grandmother's name." I smile. "I think part of me was happy to have something to put off visiting the Dalish. They're a little...cold to 'flat-ears'. Elves that live in cities and have 'forgotten' our heritage," I explain when Jowan gives me a puzzled look. "Anyway, we get to the Keep, and find the Veil's either thin or torn, because we keep getting these visions of what happened all those years ago. Nothing substantial enough for Levi to clear his family's name. And we had to fight all these reanimated skeletons. Very creepy." I give a mock-shudder. "Found his grandmother. A demon had possessed her, um, body. She looked like a ghoul. She wanted to talk with me, make a deal." The memory makes me smile. "I heard Alistair laugh when she said that. I don't make deals with demons. She...forced a confrontation when I informed her of that.

"So, long story short, we find the mage responsible for the poor condition of the Veil, who had been magically prolonging his life through some nasty, nasty reseach, and I agree not to kill him until we've repaired the Veil at least. We repair the Veil, and I ask him a few more questions about his research, then I kill him. Levi hadn't found anything to clear his grandmother's name, but I pointed out he seemed like a good man, and could probably do something to restore his family's reputation in the future. He and his family decided to set up shop in the Keep, clean it up and live there. He gave me a pretty sodding decent discount, too. And his brother, Mikhael, is the most skilled weaponsmith I've ever seen in my life." I think of Starfang, but that makes me think of Alistair. Tired as I am, I'd rather not go there.

**oOo**

_"Rahna?" His armor creaks as he sits down next to me._

_"Yes, love?" My insides curl with pleasure as he blushes. "What's on your mind?"_

_"I just was wondering what you think will happen to us after...after all this." I know he means fighting the Blight. Killing the Archdemon. I've been worrying about that too. Wynne's lectures stick more than I let on._

_I sigh. "I don't know." I pull his head down and kiss him. "One thing I __**do**__ know," I whisper, "We'll face it together. I promise."_

_He smiles. "I like the sound of that."_

_"I'll bet you do," I murmur, resting my forehead against his._

_He kisses me again. I shut out the noises of the camp; Zevran sharpening his daggers, Leliana humming to herself, Dog barking at something out in the woods. For the moment, this-him, me, our kiss-is all that matters._

**oOo**

"Rahna?" Jowan nudges my shoulder. "You okay?"

Slightly off balance from getting yanked back to the present so abruptly, I nod. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just remembering something. From the last time I was here." From the look Zevran's giving me, I think he can guess what kind of memory I was entertaining. He's _too_ pereceptive sometimes. I try to steer our conversation back to safe ground before he can ask any questions. "We should reach the Keep tomorrow, late afternoon. We can stay there tomorrow night and be on the way to West Hill the next day." I grin impishly at Zevran. "You'll have your brandy soon enough."

"Excellent." He raises an eyebrow. "Will there be barmaids as well?"

I roll my eyes. "_No. _West Hill is a fortress. They are not going to have barmaids."

"Ah,servant girls, perhaps." His eyes gleam.

"Zev, even if they do, don't start anything, _please_," I beg.

"As you wish, my dear minx," he acquieses with a devilish grin that doesn't comfort me at all. We'll be talking about this later.

"Who's first watch?" I ask, poking our fire and absently watching the embers dance skyward. We came up with a rotation after that night I insisted on going first. And gave Jowan an extra ten minutes before waking him for his turn. What can I say? I am what I am.

"Tonight is my turn," Zevran replies, pushing himself to his feet. "You need sleep."

"No arguements here," I mutter, undoing the buckles for my arm guards and slipping them off. I wince slightly as the straps for the right one drag against my scar. All this time since Fort Drakon and it's still a little tender. The fact that the wavy light brown line forms a ridge doesn't really help with the healing process. It constantly rubs against the edges of the straps. _Maybe I should have let Wynne bandage it one last time before we left._ Little late to be realizing that, but I'm stubborn, in addition to sarcastic, blunt and sneaky. I gently rub it, wondering if we have any extra fabric I could rip up to wrap it with tomorrow.

When I look up, Jowan is watching me. _Oh, sod. Busted._ I've managed to keep him and Zev from noticing how it's not really healing right so far, but I think my luck just ran out. _And it would be the one who'll worry about it._ Zev would ask if I was all right, I'd say it was fine, and he'd drop it. I don't think I'll be so lucky with Jowan, much as he likes to worry about, well, _everything_.

He crosses over and sits next to me. "Let me see."

"Jowan, it's fine." I try to hide the nearly-raw skin from him, pressing my arm against my chest.

"Rahna, I'm not letting it go this time. Let me see. Please. Would you let me help _you_, for a change?" I can't really argue with that, so I don't resist as he gently wraps his fingers around my arm and pulls it down till he can see the scar. "Maker's breath, Rahna, that's going to get infected."

"No, it won't," I mutter, kicking at a piece of wood that tumbled free of the stack of firewood and fighting another wince at his touch. "Levi's got healing poultices, I'll take care of it tomorrow. It'll be fine. I promise."

He sighs. "Have you always been this stubborn and I'm only just noticing it now?"

"Well, you've only been traveling with us for, what, two weeks? Three?"

"Three, I think. Three and a half. Something like that. But don't change the subject."

"I was just going to point out that it took Alistair about a month to realize how stubborn I can be. Wynne didn't catch on for almost three. So you're kind of ahead of the game if you're noticing that now."

"How comforting." He sighs. "If you're really going to take care of it tomorrow, I'll let it go. Just promise me something."

"What?" I look up at him.

"Don't wear the arm guard until that's covered."

I weigh his request against how likely we are to get attacked up here. "Fine. I won't." If it'll get him to stop worrying about me, I can make this concession. And gracefully, too.

"Thank you. Oh, here." He digs in his pack for a second before tossing me a small glass jar of some white-ish salve. "That'll keep it from getting infected."

"Jowan, I doubt it's going to get infected between now and tomorrow afternoon," I protest.

"You can use with whatever you get from Levi. Just for a couple days."

I sigh. "Okay, fine." _I've caved twice in one conversation. Maker, what is the world coming to?_ "Now, go get some sleep. You look as tired as I feel."

**oOo**

" 'ello,Warden."

I smile at the merchant. "Hello, Levi. How've you been?"

He shrugs. "Can't complain. What can I get for you?"

"I find myself short on healing poultices, and I need your brother to repair a couple things," I reply, unslinging my pack. "You've done an excellent job fixing the place up." They really have. Warden's Keep no longer looks like a crumbling wreck. It actually looks habitable.

"Thanks, Warden. How many poultices you want?"

"Well, quite a few. Just to be safe. " I shrug. "Y'never know."

He nods in agreement. "Very true. I have...fifteen I can sell you. Got an order for Denerim, so most of 'em are spoken for."

"'S'alright," I assure him. "Fifteen will be fine." I mentally calculate how long those will last if I use one every couple days on my arm. I really do think it'll be fine in a couple of days, if I remember to put a fresh poultice on it often enough. I figure how much I owe him and hand over the money.

Levi grins and hands some of it back. "New discount for you, Warden. Seein' as 'ow you saved Ferelden an' all."

I roll my eyes. "Levi, you already give me enough of a discount. Take it." I push the money back toward him.

"If you insist. Thank you. What did you have for Mikhael to fix?"

"A couple of blades and a set of armor." I found a set of leather armor in an abandon house just before we reached the mountains. It was in horrible shape, as if whoever was wearing went through a small war or something, but I could tell it wasn't half bad. If it's not better than my drakescale, I'll sell it or something. "How is he with leather armor?"

Levi shrugs. "Not as good as with plate, but still better than most."

"Thanks again, Levi." I scoop up my pack, loading it with the healing poultices before I head over to Mikhael's forge.

He nods in greeting. "Warden."

"Mikhael. I have some things that need repairing." I pull out the swords and armor in question.

He eyes the blades. "What in Andraste's name did you do, Warden?"

"I know, I know. Fighting an archdemon and a small horde of darkspawn is as tough on the weapons as it is on the fighters."

"I see. And the armor?"

"I found it like that. Think you can save it?"

He picks up the armor. "This is Orlesian. Probably belonged to a bard." He nods. "Yeah, I think I'll manage to salvage it for you."

I smile. "Thank you." I turn to leave.

"Warden?"

"Yes?"

"When were you planning on leaving?"

I shrug. "Sometime tomorrow. Why?"

"I'll need two days if you want all of this fixed right. One for the swords and one for the armor."

"All right then. We can afford to stay longer, if that's what it'll take. We're in no hurry." I don't add that, since the Keep is so far off the beaten path, and assumed by many to be both deserted and haunted, the risk of being found is much lower. I mean, a Hero who hates being the center of attention, an assassin on the lam from the best guild in Thedas, and a former blood mage who's supposed to be dead isn't exactly a group that should just waltz into a tavern to ask about rooms. At least not in my opinion.

Now I just need to find Zevran and Jowan to let them know we'll be staying a little longer than originally planned. I don't think either of them will mind too much. The longer we're here, the more nights we get to sleep in real beds. Zev and I haven't had that luxury since we left Denerim, and I don't even know when Jowan last got to sleep in a bed. I'm assuming even longer than the two of us, because we weren't hiding in fear of our lives for almost a year.

After I fill them in on our change of plans, I retreat to what Levi's wife tells me is my room. I slather one of the poultices-and a little of the white stuff Jowan gave me-along the length of my scar. It burns a little at first, but then cools. I wrap a piece of muslin clumsily around my arm, then dig out my arm guard and slide it back on. It fits snugly over the bandage. I lay back on the bed, staring drowsily at the ancient ceiling. _I wonder if they'll miss me if I just take a nap..._ I'm asleep before I can form an arguement.

_A/N: okay, detour...I realized I needed them to be delayed a little more before getting to West Hill, since I have something...**interesting **planned for when they get there. *whistles innocently* And I also wanted an excuse to write Levi. He's kinda cool. Not on my favorite NPCs list or anything, but still cool. So we get this. Hope you don't mind a bit of a break. :D_


	17. The Quiet One

**Just wanted to say, since I had it pointed out to me it might be unclear, Ania's name is pronounced uh-NIGH-uh.**

17. The Quiet One

_"Cousin, you have no idea... the things that happened after your wedding... I'm babbling, aren't I? I'm so happy to see you!" Shianni makes herself stop, still grinning at me._

_"Wedding? You're __**married?**__" Alistair sounds more than a little confused-and hurt- and I don't really blame him._

_"I was betrothed," I clarify. "It didn't end well."_

_I can tell he's fighting to keep his reply calm. "Still, you never told me you were betrothed. What happened?"_

_"Imagine a storybook wedding: This was the opposite." I don't want to talk about it. Don't want to think of watching Nola's life bleed away. Arriving a few seconds too late to help Nelaros. The almost feral enjoyment of skewering Vaughan on my sword and slitting his throat with my dagger. Seeing Shianni more shaken than I would have thought possible._

_"I...all right...that __**does**__ sound bad," he mutters, catching my hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. I lean back against him for the barest measure of a second in thanks. We can talk about this later if we must, but right now, there are other things that demand our attention._

**oOo**

"Rahna? Are you in there, my dear minx?" Zevran's voice pulls me out of my dreamland rememberence and I sit up in bed, stiff from sleeping in my armor.

"Yeah, Zev. You can come in," I call as I run one hand through my disheveled hair. One finger catches on a tangle and I wince. "What did you need?"

"You friend Levi's wife-"

"Ania."

"All right, Ania, wanted me to tell you dinner will be ready soon."

I'm still trying to shake free of my drowsiness. "Dinner?"

"Yes, my dear. Dinner. The meal one eats at the end of the day. I'm sure you've heard of it, no?" he chuckles. He points to my arm. "Is that supposed to look like that?"

I follow his gaze. The bandage I had clumsily wrapped around my arm has come half undone and is hanging out between the straps of my arm guard. "Oh, sod. No, it's not. But I can't do much better with one hand."

"Then allow me." He pulls off my arm guard, unwinding the bandage and redoing it much better than I could have ever managed.

"Thank you." I pull the arm guard back on again, more to cover the bandage so Ania doesn't worry than for protection. "Lead the way."

"Are you all right, Rahna?"

I give him a quizzical look. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"There was a lingering sadness in your eyes that I've only seen a few times since the end of the Blight, my dear. You were dreaming about him, weren't you?" He doesn't need to clarify who he means; we both know.

I nod. "When we went to the alienage, after we rescued Anora. My cousin Shianni said something about my wedding and I had to explain to him that I was betrothed, not married, and the day didn't end well." I twist the gold band around my right ring finger. "I think he was hurt that I hadn't told him."

"Ah, yes, I remember the quarrel you two had over that when you returned to the Arl's estate."

"I can't really blame him, especially since I couldn't hide how excited I'd been to get married, and how almost-perfect my betrothed was."

"What was his name?"

"Nelaros. He died trying to save me. Funny how that pattern seems to repeat in my life," I mutter. "First him, then Alistair."

"None of that tonight, minx," Zevran scolds lightly. "I believe it would be detrimental to your healing process." He lifts my hand and kisses the knuckles. "You need to move on."

"Zev..."

"I know it will not be with me. And I understand that. But you will need to find _someone_ at some point, Rahna."

"Right now is not that point," I insist stubbornly. "I'll move on when I'm ready. Not before."

He sighs as we reach the door to the dining room. "I suppose that is all I can ask for." He opens the door and bows as he lets me enter first.

**oOo**

Ania's cooking rivals Leliana's, which is really saying something. The meal is delicious. When I tell her, she blushes and informs me her daughter helped. Considering Tabitha-Tabbi-is all of nine years old, I'm even more impressed. After dinner, I offer to help clean up.

"Oh, I couldn't let y'do that, Warden," Ania protests. "The children can help me."

"But _Ma_-" The words burst from Matt, who is thirteen and wants so very desperately to take Zevran up on his offer for knife-throwing lessons.

"Don't you 'But Ma' me, Matthias Dryden! I am not gonna make a guest scrub pots so you can run off t'play with yore wooden swords or wotever." Ania plants her hands on her hips and glares at her son.

"Ania, I don't mind. Please let me help. It's the least I can do," I insist. "And I'm sure Zevran is looking forward to teaching him just as much as he is to learning."

With much pleading from Matthias and cajoling from me, Ania is finally talked into allowing me to substitute for Matthias in the pot-scrubbing line. Zevran grins at me as he follows a very, _very_ enthusiastic Matthias out to the weapons training area.

"Thank you for letting him go," I comment as I follow Ania and Tabbi back to the kitchen, all of us balancing piles of dishes.

Ania shrugs. "Yore the one who talked me int' it. Thank y'self."

I chuckle. "I couldn't help it. Your son reminds me of..." The name catches in my throat, and I settle for finishing, "...someone I knew."

"Oh? Who's Matt remind ya of?" Tabbi asks, twirling her blonde ponytail after depositing her stack of dishes in the sink.

"One of the people who traveled with me back when I was fighting the Blight. He was a very enthusiastic person, just like your brother," I explain to the little girl, who's almost as tall as I am. _I know elves are short compared to humans, but Maker and Andraste as my witnesses, this girl is tall for her age._

"Come on, ladies," Ania prods, "There'll be time t'chat later. Right now, we need t'take care of these dishes."

Tabbi and I obey. Ania washes, I dry, and Tabbi puts things away as I finish drying them.

"Y'know, I didn't see yore other friend at dinner, the quiet one. Is he all right?" Ania's concerned inquiry is first I've thought about the fact that I haven't seen Jowan since just before my nap earlier.

"I'm sure he is," I assure Ania, "He's just very shy."

"I didn't catch his name earlier," she hints, handing me a serving platter.

"J-Levyn." I remember just in time to correct myself without it sounding suspicious. _Maker's breath, that was close!_ I haven't had to introduce him to anyone since he joined us near Longreach, so remembering to use the other name takes a second. I'm not perfect.

"Was he traveling with you while you was fightin' the Blight, too?" Tabbi asks, taking the now-dry serving platter from me carefully.

I smile and shake my head. "No. Zevran was, but not him."

"Is Zevran the elf?"

"Yes, Tabbi. Zevran's the elf. He's a very good friend of mine. Both of them are." I take a plate from Ania and dry it off as I explain.

"Oh." Tabbi bites her lip, peeks at her mother, and tugs me closer. " I think he's cute," she whispers.

I swallow a grin and whisper back, "Which one?" I think she means Zevran, but we were talking about him and Jowan both, so I want to be clear before I go ribbing him about that.

"The-The quiet one. With the dark hair."

_Oh, Maker, you do have quite the sense of humor._ Tabbi thinks Jowan is cute. After so long watching women trip over themselves trying to 'catch' _**Zevran**_, it takes a second for that to sink in. "You don't like Zevran?"

She shrugs. "He's okay. I mean, he's nice enough an' everything. And I like his tattoo. But I don't like blonde hair with tan skin." She makes a face. "It doesn't look right to me."

"Tabitha Rose, wot're you talkin' the Warden's ear off about?" Ania demands, handing me the last thing, a deep red serving bowl before peering suspiciously at her chatty daughter.

"Nothin', Mama." Tabbi is the picture of freckled, blue eyed innocence as she answers her mother. She turns and takes the serving bowl from me as I finish drying it. "I'm gonna go watch Matt now." She skips off, leaving me and Ania alone in the kitchen.

"I swear, half the time I dunno wot's going through their heads," Ania chuckles as she watches her daughter go. "One minute she's actin' like a true girl, squealin' bloody murder as Matt chases her with some nasty critter he found, the next she's practically trippin' over herself to watch him pratice with swords or daggers or wotever."

I smile. "Girls are like that. If I hadn't grown up in a place where cockroaches and mice were as common as dirt, I probably would be, too."

Ania laughes again. "Why don't you go check on yore friend."

I nod. "I'll do that." I'm sure he's fine; just anti-social, but I know Ania will worry until someone makes sure. Might as well be me.

**oOo**

"Jowan? You okay?" There's no one else in the hallway, so I don't worry about my slip into using his real name.

"I'm fine." His reply is so quiet I barely catch it through the door.

I sigh and cross my arms. "Can I come in?"

"Sure."

I bump the door open with my hip and lean against the wall just inside the room. "We missed you at dinner. Ania asked me if you were okay."

"Rahna, I'm fine," he repeats, staring out the window rather than meet my eyes. "I just...wasn't hungry."

I sigh and cross the room to sit next to him. "What's wrong? I know something is."

"Today's, um, two years since the day I met Lily," he admits after a long almost-minute of silence.

"Oh." There's not really much I can say to that, at least not that he's heard from me about five times before. I finally venture a question. "Did...did you _really_ love her?" _Andraste's holy knickers, I hope that didn't come out wrong. _

His lips twist in a small, wry smile. "I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure." He drags one hand through his dark hair and keeps staring out the window, as if she's up in the sky and can forgive him for what he did.

"Whaddya mean?" I play with a strand of my hair as I ask.

"If I really loved her, wouldn't I have given up the blood magic for her? Wouldn't I have known it was wrong and given it up?"

I have to think about that for a minute. He needs a real answer, not a hollow, consolatory one. "Yes, you probably would have," I finally admit. If I'd been doing anything that I knew Alistair would be less than thrilled to find me doing, I would have stopped for his sake. As I watch Jowan's shoulders slump, I decide some cheering up is in order. He shouldn't be this miserable. I shift position on the bed, so I can see his face better. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Levi's daughter thinks you're cute."

Maker's mercy, I have _never_ seen a man go so red. Not even Alistair.

_A/N: Muahaha! *evil smirk* Poor Jowan. Well, I'll find some way to make it up to him soon... Maybe a hug. *eyes glaze over* Sorry, I was in dreamland... Anyhoo, I've always been curious what kind of family Levi would have, him seeming like a nice enough guy and all, and this is what I settled on. Tabbi was originally going to be twins, but I changed my mind since I have twins in my __**other**__ multi-chapter fic. Hope you like, and they will be leaving Warden's Keep and continuing on soon, I promise. I think in the next chapter._


	18. The Third Dragon

18. The Third Dragon

_ I want to know why pain makes me stronger,_

_ I want to know why good men die_

Tabbi is _hilarious_. Some girls are good at hiding how they feel. She's not one of them.

We're watching Zevran and Matt as the knife-throwing lessons continue our second day at the Keep. Tabbi seems impressed with her brother's new skill.

"He's a quick learner," I comment. "Zev never could get me to pick things up like that."

She nods. "Yeah, Matt's always been-" She stops talking in the middle of the sentence, her face turning bright red and her eyes doubling in size as she stares over my shoulder. Of course I have to turn to look as well to see what is causing this reaction. Well, _who_ would be more accurate.

"Rahna, Mikhael needs to talk to you." Jowan leans against the wall. "Something about the armor you wanted him to fix."

I bite back a grin at the way Tabbi's looking at him as I push myself to my feet. "Is something wrong?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He just said he needed to talk to you about it."

"Huh. Well, guess I'd better go talk to him." I head off in the direction of Mikhael's forge. I haven't gone far when I hear footsteps chasing behind me.

"Rahna, wait!" Tabbi's out of breath when she catches up to me.

"Don't you want to stay and watch your brother?" I smile as what I leave unsaid flies right over the nine year old's head.

"You kidding?" She looks at me in sheer terror, her face still red. "I couldn't! That would mean sitting with...with _him_."

I choke back a laugh, knowing exactly who she means by _him_. "Tabbi, Levyn doesn't bite."

She shrugs. "I know," she mutters in embarrassment. "But I'd still rather comewithyou." Her words mash together, the blush spreading down her neck as well.

"You know, he's going to think you don't like him," I point out as we get closer to her uncle's forge. "I mean, if you run away every time he comes near you."

"Oh." She digests that, now clearly torn.

"You're already with me this time. It would probably look suspicious if you went back now. But in the future, don't bolt when he gets within ten feet of you." I smile and give her a sideways hug.

"Okay." She grins sheepishly. "I'll try. But I get so _shy_ around him..." She rubs the back of her neck bashfully.

I laugh. "I know exactly what you mean, trust me. Now I need to see what your uncle wanted to talk to me about."

"All right." She still follows me, almost as if she's afraid Jowan's going to appear out of nowhere and she'll have to-Maker forbid-talk to him. _Why do girls get like that?_ I remember when I was her age, there was an elf in the Alienage I thought was cute. I blushed, stuttered, and generally made it obvious I liked him any time he came near me. Until he picked on Shianni and she gave him a black eye. That was the end of _that_. However, I don't Tabbi will have such an excuse. Jowan's one of the most agreeable people I've ever met. Or maybe least-confrontational is a better way of putting it.

I'm still fighting a grin when I reach Mikhael's forge. "I understand you needed to speak to me about the armor?"

"Yes, Warden. There's some damage in one spot that will require replacing the whole strip." He shows me the place in question, an nasty gash on the side of the chestpiece. "I'll need you to put it on so I size the replacement right."

"Ah, I see. Can Tabbi watch? I believe she's become my shadow for the moment."

Mikhael smiles. "It's not often the children get to see a hero, Warden," he points out as I remove the drakescale armor and pull on the damaged set over my thin shift. Even the few second in the cold mountain air make me shiver. Mikhael figures how to size the replacement and I slide it off. Tabbi hands me the discarded drakescale and I pull it back on. "My thanks, Warden. This will be considerably easier now. The armor should be done soon."

"Thanks, Mikhael. Don't rush. We're not in any hurry to get anywhere. Now, Tabbi, I think you and I should go see if there's any way we can help your mother."

** oOo**

Mikhael is as good as his word; everything is done just before dinner. However, the nasty storm clouds boiling on the horizon make me reluctant to leave just yet. When _that_ breaks, I would much rather have a roof over my head. The idea of traveling trecherous mountain paths or even open road under whatever's coming is just about the most unappealing one I've come across in a very long while. Since Levi figures it will reach the area tomorrow, and last a day or two, I decide we're staying right here until it's gone.

Tabbi hugs me for that after dinner. I'm substituting for Matthias again in the dishes line, and Ania gives the two of us a funny look.

"Wot's all that about?" she asks when Tabbi's across the room putting something away.

"Nothing important," I hedge. "A small favor I did, that's all."

Ania chuckles. "Yore too good to my children, Warden. They'll be spoiled rotten by the time you leave."

"Can't have that." I take the bowl she passes me. "Matt asked me earlier to tell him and Tabbi about my adventures. I can't tell the whole thing, that would take more time than I have, but what kind of things would they be most interested in, so I can abridge accordingly?"

"You're gonna tell us about when you was fightin' the Blight?" Tabbi demands eagerly, apparently having heard me.

"I am. But we have to finish with the dishes first, and then I'll tell you."

"Okay." Needless to say, we finish much faster tonight than we did yesterday.

** oOo**

Both Matthias and Tabbi are apparently fascinated with dragons. When they find out I fought _three_ of them, Matthias' eyes go as big as his sister's did earlier, and they demand to hear more. So I tell them about the High Dragon we fought near Haven, how long and hard a fight it was, how we were all so tired by the time Alistair climbed the beast's neck and struck the killing blow. Then I tell them about our fight with Flemeth. How she was even harder to defeat, and not just because I only had one mage with me. How close we came to losing. How relieved I was when she finally fell with my swords rammed in her skull.

I didn't expect the memory that suddenly batters me, though perhaps I should have, considering.

** oOo**

_We're quite a sight, I'm sure, when we return to camp. I'm leading, scorched boots slamming the dirt in an outward manifestation of the fury absolutely **boiling** inside my chest. Alistair trails behind me, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion and not entirely healed shield arm cradled protectively into his chest, neatly hiding the new, jagged punctures across his breastplate. Sten limps behind him, silent disapproval radiating off him as he carries Wynne, despite her protests and his own injuries. As the qunari deposits his exhausted burden near her tent and Alistair deposits his nearly worthless armor in a heap near __**his**__ tent, I storm over to where Morrigan stands, watching with an expression of cool disinterest._

_ "Why didn't you __**tell**__ me your sodding mother could sodding shapeshift into a sodding__** DRAGON?**__" I demand, furious._

_ The Witch merely shrugs. "I was confident in your ability to defeat her. And rightly so, 'twould seem. Flemeth __**is**__ dead, is she not?"_

_ It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to not smack the pleased smirk off her face. "Morrigan, Sten nearly got crushed! Alistair was almost __**BITTEN IN HALF!**__ They would both be dead if I hadn't brought Wynne! And she nearly killed herself trying to heal them!" The memory of vicious jaws closing on Alistair as Wynne struggled to summon a healing spell make my blood run cold._

_ "Truly?" Morrigan arches one eyebrow. "Tell me, Warden, would you still have agreed to help had I told you?"_

_ "Of course I would have! I just would have prepared better to fight a sodding dragon!"_

_ "Had you done so, Flemeth would simply have changed into something far more difficult to defeat. I was actually doing you a favor."_

_ I don't know whether or not I really believe her, but the explanation cools my anger enough that I hand her the grimoire instead of flinging it to the ground as I felt like doing at first._

** oOo**

"Warden? What about the third dragon?" Matthias' question drags me back to the present.

"The third dragon." I feel my heart twist as I repeat the words. I can't. I _**cannot**_ talk about the third dragon. The archdemon took too much from me for me to ever feel like reiterating that particular battle. "Um..." I can tell they both desperately want to hear the story, but my throat is closing up at the mere thought of telling it. So I take the easy out. "Zevran tells that one so much better than I do."

"Indeed?" He raises an eyebrow. "Considering I spent most of the fight avoiding nasty claws and even nastier teeth, I don't know if I agree with you, my dear."

"You would tell it better, Zev," I insist, and he finally catches the glint in my eye, knowing me well enough to recognize the impending tears.

"As you wish, minx," he acquiesces, and begins to tell the story to the enraptured Dryden siblings. I at least manage to listen for most of his-much exaggerated-telling of the final battle in our campaign against the Blight. His description of the archdemon has Matt and Tabbi shuddering and sends a memory of bared fangs and a deadly, baleful glare aimed straight at me and Alistair racing through my mind. _"You're mine."_

As Zevran draws near what I know is the end of the fight my heart starts racing, Alistair's words echoing in my mind again, "_Sanest thing I've ever done,"_ over and over and over. I can't even sit and listen, I just can't. So I slip from the room with a whispered apology, standing in the hallway fighting tears and self recrimation back with the tattered remains of my sanity.

Finally the combined weight of my two adversaries overwhelms me, and I sink down to a crouch, leaning my head back against the cool stone and surrendering to the tears as my fingers curl around his amulet again. "Alistair," I murmur, the name once again tearing at my heart. _I thought I was sodding __**done**__ with this!_ I swipe furiously at the watery streaks running down my face.

"What's wrong?" I wasn't expecting anyone to follow me, so Jowan's quiet concern and hand on my shoulder make me jump.

"I...can't listen to the end." I shake my head and stand back up, fingers still locked around the amulet. "Not yet. Sweet Andraste, I loved him so much." The words escape in a whisper. I make another savage swipe at the tears. "Maker, I thought I was finished crying about it," I hiss, willing the emotion in me to die down.

Jowan doesn't say anything. I don't really know if there's anything he _could _say right now. Like when there was nothing I could say about Lily, this is one of those times that knowing that someone's there for you is the best they're going to be able to do, and somehow it's enough.

** oOo**

The storm shows up exactly when Levi predicted, and lasts two days. I pass the time telling Matthias and Tabbi stories about my "adventures" and helping Ania with whatever she needs. Jowan stays in his room most of the time, much to Tabbi's disappointment, but I know it's because he has as much trouble remembering to _answer _to Levyn as I do remembering to _call_ him Levyn. Zevran I don't see much, which worries me a little, and makes me suspicious, but I can't really do anything about that.

Still, I can't deny feeling relieved when the weather clears and we leave. I stow the repaired swords in my pack and wear the armor. It's almost the same as the drakescale, but the enhancements are better. And the idea of it being the battledress of some bard reminds me of Leliana. I need as many good memories as possible right now.

Our business at Warden's Keep concluded, I lead the way towards West Hill.

_A/N:Onward to West Hill! Not entirely sure what's gonna happen there yet (even though I know what happens after...*waggles eyebrows*), but I'm sure Zev'll make it good. Oh, yeah, song lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are to "These Things Take Time" by Sanctus Real. I thought they fit cuz Rahna's thinking about Alistair again, and on one of those 'relapse-into-tears' moments. And 'bout the flashback, I've always wanted a way to totally bawl Morrigan out for not telling you what might be involved in killing Flemeth. So, my take on how that maybe should've gone, rather than just 'Oh, good you found it. Thanks.'. I mean, I just battled a freakin' DRAGON for you, lady(and Alistair really did get chewed on when I fought her). Sorry, end rant. I know Morrigan's not that kind of person, but a girl can dream... :D_


	19. Paranoid

19. Paranoid

_I'm back at the empty campsite, staring at where Morrigan's tent would be, were this real. I turn slightly to face where Alistair stands, same as last time. Well, almost the same. He's wearing a shirt this time. Strangely enough, I don't care. The grin he's also wearing sends shivers of delight racing up and down my spine as I charge across the ground between us. He catches me as I unashamedly fling myself at him. The first kiss is quick, the second long and passionate and steals my breath, just like they used to._

_ "I miss you still." The words tumble out of my mouth the second I pull back._

_ "Rahna..." His voice trails off, one hand coming to rest in the small of my back. "Love-"_

_ "No." I unwind my arm from around his neck and rest one finger against his lips. "Don't say anything. Please. I know I'm only dreaming, but-"_

_ "You have to move on, Rahna. You can't love me, __**like this**__, forever."_

_ "I can try," I whisper in his ear, pressing a kiss against the side of his neck. "Moving on can wait." _

_ "Rahna, this isn't healthy. And, much as I hate to admit it, Zevran's right."_

_ I never thought I'd hear him say that. "What?"_

_ He makes me meet his eyes. "Your loyalty is touching, Rahna, really it is, and I love you for it, but I'm-"_

_ "Don't! Don't say it!" I feel the tears starting. The whole point of dreaming is to forget reality, not have it rubbed in my face. "I know, all right? Just...let me have my dreams."_

_ He smiles. "Sounds good to me." The words are followed by another passionate kiss. I happily lose myself in it._

** oOo**

The happiness has me all but glowing after I wake up, all through what we call breakfast, until we've been underway about half an hour. That's when Zevran sees fit to inquire as to _why_ I'm all but glowing.

"I...had a good dream last night," I hedge, preferring not to go too deep.

Zevran raises an eyebrow. "From the smile you've been wearing since you woke, it must have been a _very_ good dream," he mumurs under his breath. He narrows his eyes. "Was it about Alistair, _amica_?"

I sigh. "Yes, Zevran. It was about Alistair. It was a very good dream, and I don't want to hear any kind of commentary. Dirty, realistic, or otherwise. All right?"

"Considering what happened last time, you'll forgive me if I keep a close eye on where you're walking."

I laugh. "Certainly. I'd hate to have to repeat what happened last time." The memory of that racist bastard, however unavoidable, serves to ruin my mood, even more so when I have to explain to Jowan what happened.

**oOo**

It's raining by the time we reach West Hill, probably leftovers of the storm that hit while we were at Warden's Keep. _At least it's not a torrential downpour._ That's one small thing to thank the Maker for. We're still absolutely soaked by the time we reach the town huddling in the shadow of the fortress.

"Not many people," I mutter, eyeing the mostly-empty houses.

"Most people believe the rumors that the fortress is haunted," Jowan points out, running his fingers through his hair to pull back the escaping strands plastered against his forehead.

I raise a dripping eyebrow at him. "How'd you know that?"

"Kinloch Hold is only a two day trip away, if you cut across Bann Loren's land," he points out.

Something dawns on me when he says that. "Is there going be anyone in there who might recognize you?"

He shrugs. "No way to know. Just have to risk it, because I am not staying out in this," he mutters, gesturing toward the angry gray sky.

"Well, if you're sure..." I shrug and push back my own soaking wet hair.

**oOo**

While West Hill is famous for the battle Maric fought, and lost, at the fortress, a small town clustered nearby that shares its name has earned its own reputation through their brandy, which is brewed by a pair of brothers. Therefore, most of life here revolves around the tavern, as evidenced by the large number of people crowding in the building. We join them so Zevran can get his hands on said brandy. A few of the more sober patrons, almost all humans, look up as we enter, give us a cursory once-over, and return their attention to their drinks. No comments about me and Zevran being elves. No double takes. No demands for us to leave. That's a first.

We make our way to the counter, and the barkeeper raises an eyebrow at us. Or more accurately, our weapons. Zevran and I aren't exactly hiding our swords. But he shakes his head, as if dismissing a possibility.

"What can I getcha?" he asks, scrubbing a stubborn stain on the counter with a rag that doesn't look like it's capable of doing any good.

"Two bottles of your brandy, my friend." Zevran pulls out the money to pay, exchanges it for the dark green bottles, and starts nudging his way through the people to an empty table. I let Jowan walk in front of me, since I'm more used to these kinds of places, having been in more than one during the time we spent fighting the Blight. Or, at least, I think I'm more used to them. The way the mage easily-almost expertly-slides between people, however, has me questioning that thought. I really have no idea where all he was forced to spend his time after I let him go. I have a feeling some of them might surprise me.

**oOo**

I can't stop scanning the room, though I don't know what exactly I'm looking for. Even if there _is_ someone here who would recognize Jowan, how am I supposed to know who they are? And what are we supposed to do? Instantly bolt back out into the rain, just as we're starting to dry off? _That_ wouldn't be the least bit suspicious. He catches my eye, and I can see the same worry driving him just shy of insane. I shake my head. _We're both just being-_

Jowan suddenly stills, eyes locked on two men sitting off to the side. "Oh, _**no**_."

-_paranoid._ "What?" I ask in a tone pitched almost as low as his.

He motions at the two men. "Those two, the blond one's a templar from the tower, and the other-" a flash of something; maybe hurt, maybe anger, maybe both, flies across his face "-was in a group of refugees I protected, maybe seven or eight months ago. He told the templars about me. Didn't know about my dabbling in blood magic or anything, but _apostate_ is barely a half step up from _maleficar_." He shakes his head. "I barely managed to get out of there alive."

**oOo**

_He tried his best to hold his breath-the room smelled __**awful**__-but his lungs were demanding air, his whole body trembling from exhaustion. He closed his eyes and prayed that the templars would miss him, that they would run right past the long-abandoned, sour-smelling house, and look for him elsewhere. He finally was forced to let out the breath he had been holding, trying to do so slowly and quietly, but the footsteps outside still halted. _No, no, no. There's nothing remotely interesting in here. Go away!_ he begged mentally, heart pounding from adrenaline and fear and exhaustion. The footsteps came closer, slowly, warily, and he knew they'd heard him. _Dear Maker, let them go away!_ The irony of a blood mage asking for the Maker's assistance didn't escape him, and a wry, sardonic grin twisted his lips for a moment as he slid along the back wall of the decrepit house. As the templars burst in through the front door, he was already halfway out a huge hole in the back wall. _Idiots didn't even look to see if there was another way in or out._ He was sure the tower's resident escape artist and templar-goader would have had a few more choice insults to hurl at the cursing men before departing, but Jowan was not Anders. He just wanted to __**get out of there**__. The edge of the woods beckoned from a few tantalizing yards away, and he scrambled toward them. He didn't see the templar standing outside the house until the man had already grabbed his arm._

_ The lightning that flared from his hand was pure instinct, a desperate bid to get free, and successful at that. However, the templar yelled-whether in surprise or pain, Jowan couldn't tell-as he let go, bringing his fellows rushing from inside the house._

_ Jowan didn't look back as he made for the woods, and so missed seeing one of the templars unslinging a bow from his shoulders. Just as the branches and trunks obscured him from their view, the archer loosed the arrow nocked hard on the bowstring._

_ By pure chance, or luck, or 'the__ divine__ guidance of the Maker's hand', the shaft buried itself in his leg. The pain was instant, intense, and nearly sent him tumbling to the ground. But the cry of pain he instinctively uttered had the templars willing to follow him into the woods, so he somehow-and he never knew exactly how-managed to stay on his feet until he stumbled on a place to hide. Hollowed out trees were usually the first place that would be checked for a fleeing person, mage or no, but this particular trunk twisted around in such a way it __**appeared**__ to still be solid. His wounded leg finally giving out, Jowan scrambled inside the dead tree, wincing as the arrow knocked against the wood, and waited until the templars were past to snap off the barbed end of the shaft embedded in the lower half of his leg._

_ He hissed out a sharp breath as the wood broke, pain shooting up his leg. "Oh, __**Maker**__," he groaned. That __**hurt**__. He grasped the fletched end and gritted his teeth. _You have to do it, and you know it. Just pull._ Just as he tightened his grip, he heard the templars returning, obviously decided their quarry was beyond their grasp. They walked so close he could hear one of them grumbling about having to hunt a sodding blood mage with no sodding phylactery. He waited until their footsteps had faded back in the direction of the town to pull out the shaft. One clean yank that nearly had his head __**exploding**__ with white-hot agony for the ten most painful seconds he could ever remember experiencing. Well, barring the way Lily looked at him before he left the tower, but he really didn't want to think about her right now. With the shaft out, he turned his minimal healing skills to the task of at least enabling him to walk, even if it was slowly and with a limp. _No more helping refugees_, he ordered himself. _At least not while the Chantry's hot on your trail again._ The pain subsided to a dull ache, and he tried standing. It hurt. And walking hurt even more, but he was not staying here if he could help it. He struck off in the general direction of a town he knew lay nearby._

**oOo**

I don't know if I want to know what Jowan's remembering at the moment, but knowing he barely got away alive tells me enough. "Wait." I frown. "That guy turned you in after you _**helped**_ him?" I shake my head and snort in disgust. "Some people..."

"Rahna, anyone who considered themself a devout Andrastian would have done the same thing."

"Not me," I grumble indignantly in response to his protest, both of us still staring at the two men. "There are some times you let things slide. That would be one of them. D'you think he saw you?"

"We'll know if he does. I doubt he'll hesitate to tell the Chantry about me a second time. He sure didn't the first time."

"Good point."

The rest of our time in the tavern is spent in tense silence. Zevran and I are a hairs-breadth from snatching out our swords, and all three of us watch the men slouched at their table. It turns out we're just paranoid after all. The men leave without casting so much as a second glance in Jowan's direction. I let go of the dagger handle I was clutching under the table, slipping the weapon back into my belt.

We leave a few minutes later. The storm has died down, Zevran has his brandy, and none of us really wants to stay longer than need demands. Why tempt fate like that? We strike out in roughly the direction of the River Dane. My plan is to reach the river and follow it down toward the Hinterlands. After that, who knows?

_A/N: I know, I know, I've abused poor Jowan something awful these last few chapters, first with Rahna teasing him about Tabbi-and you __**know**__ she does that as mercilessly as possible-and now this flashback. But I __**am**__ going to make it up to him(starting with a heartfelt wish to cuddle him and take care of him after writing that darn flashback. But, hey, when I say barely got out alive, I mean it) very, very soon. Like, maybe in the next chapter. Or the chapter after that. Or, well...let's just stick with very, very soon._


	20. Now We're Even

20. Now We're Even

We're not far from West Hill, maybe a day, when a familiar sense of vertigo tugs at me. I almost fall, but fortunately a nearby tree helps prevent that. One hand slaps against the rough bark as I try to remain upright, my other hand bracing against my knees.

"Rahna?" Zevran's seen this reaction from me-and Alistair-before, but Jowan hasn't.

"I'm fine," I assure him as I re-adjust to the long-absent sensation. _Maker, I haven't missed this at all._

Darkspawn.

Not too many, and not too close, but I can feel their presence clawing at my mind, as I'm sure mine is doing to theirs.

"We need to find them." Amazing how easy it is to slip back into thinking like a Warden. Like a leader.

"But-" Jowan cuts off his protest, but I can still see the worry in his eyes.

"You don't have to. I know you weren't expecting anything like this when you joined us." _Neither was I._ He also doesn't have a staff, which would be the same as me using one sword instead of two. _And_ he's not immune to the taint like I am. Zevran isn't either, but I know it's pointless to try and leave _him_ behind. He's fought darkspawn before. "Zev, I think we should split up. I'll head toward the river, you go back toward the hills. And be quiet."

He chuckles. "As if I would loudly track a party of darkspawn, my dear Warden. Be careful."

I nod. "You, too."

** oOo**

I find the darkspawn about two miles up the river from where I first sensed them. Since Warden senses don't usually reach that far-or at least, mine don't-I have a feeling they're moving, which means they'll eventually run into someone who wasn't expecting there to still be darkspawn this long after the defeat of the archdemon. The group that's congregated on the river bank could do a lot of damage.

Five hurlocks and three genlocks, two of them alphas, stand there as if waiting for something. I know if I go looking for Zevran, they'll be gone before we get back. I gnaw on my lip as I try to form a plan.

_I think I can take 'em_. It's a ridiculous thought, on par with my strategy for killing the broodmother, which really wasn't a strategy at all. It worked, though, much to Alistair and Morrigan's suprise. And mine, but I didn't tell them that.

I finally come with an idea that will work, if I manage to stick to the plan, which has never been a strong point of mine. I love improvising. It's how a rogue survives. However, this time, improvising might get me killed. I draw my swords, Topsider's Honor singing slightly as it clears the sheath, and sneak closer.

The trees thin out a good ten feet from the darkspawn, so sneaking becomes pointless. I take a deep breath, abandon all pretense of stealth and charge right at them.

I impale a hurlock on one sword, slicing another across the back of its knees. Sometimes being short has its advantages. I pull my sword free of the impaled hurlock and slash one of the genlock alphas across the chest.

A ball of lightning slams into me. _Where did that come from?_ I whip my head around in search of the source.

An emissary. There's a sodding genlock emissary across the river. _Sweet sodding Andraste, how did I miss that?_ The only way to reach it is wading through the river, and knowing it has lightning at its disposal makes me reluctant to do that. I consider the throwing dagger tucked in my belt, but Leliana was never able to get me more than passable with that. At this range, I'd probably miss. If I'd seen that emissary, I never would have attacked alone. Still, I don't die easily. Let's see how many I can take with me.

I jump backwards to avoid a swing from a hurlock's shield, catching a glancing blow to the shoulder instead of a full on slam that would have landed me on the ground. I know if I fall, I die. I have to stay on my feet.

The weakness spell that blasts from the emissary's staff to envelop me makes that considerably more difficult. I think of Alistair, how we used to fight back to back, him taking the blows and me dealing them. _I miss you, my love._ I don't think I've ever missed him more than I do right now.

Of course, the way things are going, I won't be missing him much longer. I stumble and fall to my knees as I duck a swing from a hurlock's greatsword. _ No, no, no, Rahna, get up!_ I barely manage to block a strike from the crippled, stumbling hurlock before aiming a swing at the already-wounded genlock alpha. It dodges easily and comes at me. I clumsily roll out of the way.

I don't see the two hurlocks until it's too late. Both of the are in the perfect position to kill me as as soon as I stop moving. One I might manage to block, but not both of them. I'm dead.

The rush of flame that surrounds them is so close I feel my skin tighten from the heat, my scars giving an extra twinge of protest.

"Rahna, get up!"

I stare at the burning corpses in disbelief as something that roughly resembles a boulder flies across the river and slams the emissary to the ground. _What in Andraste's name...?_

"_**Rahna!**_"

I blink in surprise at my rescuer. "Jowan?"

"Get _**up**_!" He reaches me and hauls me to my feet with one hand, sending an arcane bolt hard on the heels of the stonefist that flattened the emissary.

"What're you _doing_ here?" I demand, feeling the weakness spell wear off. I finish off the wounded genlock alpha, ramming one sword into its gut and slashing the other across its throat so hard I nearly decapitate it. _He's not immune to the taint. If they get him..._

"I like to worry, remember?" he replies. "Behind you!" The tan light of a paralysis spell traps the greatsword-wielding hurlock long enough for me to plant both swords in its chest.

The remaining darkspawn turn from me and head for him, as if they know he's more dangerous. "Jowan! Watch out!"

My warning is unnecessary. He turns from sending a lightning bolt of his own to finish off the emissary and flings up an arcane shield. The defensive spell is draining, especially without a proper staff, and he doesn't hold it long before shaking his head and sending the energy of a mind blast ripping towards the remaining darkspawn.

All of them are inside the affected area, and this gives us a brief moment to breathe before it wears off. Ice encases the genlock alpha, and I ram my swords into it hard enough that it shatters.

I hear Jowan cry out in pain as the genlock gets close enough to do some damage. I whirl around and bury both my swords in the creature's back, feeling one sever its spine as it goes limp. "You okay?" I demand.

Despite the blood soaking through the new rent in his sleeve and trickling down his arm, he nods.

We turn our attention to the last hurlock. My swords sink into its side, the hilts so slippery with blood they almost don't come free when I pull on them. I've barely gotten them free when Jowan sends another stonefist into the creature's chest, the spell still deadly even though he had to cast it with one hand.

As the hurlock tumbles to a stop, I give myself just a couple minutes to make sure all the darkspawn are dead and clean off my swords before I sheath them and turn to Jowan. "Let me see."

"No, Rahna, honestly, I'm fi-"

"Jowan. Let. Me. _**See**_." Even if the wound itself isn't all that bad, genlocks are notorious for poisoning their blades, and I don't want to lose a friend. He sighs and pulls his hand away from the wound, wiping the blood off on his shirt. I roll his sleeve up until I can see the gash and sigh in relief. It doesn't show any trace of being anything other than a nasty dagger wound. That bugger's blade was _sharp_.

"I hope that sigh was relief rather than dismay."

"It was," I chuckle as I pull a healing poultice out of my pack and smear it on the injury.

"Ow." He flinches. "Are _you_ all right, Rahna?"

I nod. "I am. None of 'em even really touched me. Except that sodding emissary," I amend. "Thanks to you." The bruise pulsing under my shoulder guard screams that I'm lying, but he can't see it, so that secret shall remain mine.

"You seemed to be handling yourself just fine when I came along ," he comments.

"Actually, I happened to be watching my life flash before my eyes at that moment," I contradict. "Didn't you see the mess I was in?"

"Well, yes."

"So, do I owe _you_ one now?" I tease as I pull out a bandage and start winding it around his arm.

"Actually, I think I still owed you one for convincing the templars I'm, uh, dead."

"So now we're even."

He nods. "I'd have helped even if I didn't owe you, you know. You've been a better friend than I deserve."

I roll my eyes. "Maker's breath, Jowan, how many times am I going to have to tell you to stop beating yourself up for what you did?"

He smiles sheepishly. "At least one more. I'm trying, but it's really hard to stop, especially when what I did was so bad."

"Jowan. Stop that." I resist the urge to smack him up the back of his head. "You're not a bad person. If you were, you wouldn't have helped me just now," I point out. "The risk of getting infected by the darkspawn taint would be more than enough reason for most people-even average people-to not get involved. And, by the way, I would never have forgiven you if that had happened." I shudder at the thought. I've seen ghouls.

Jowan actually _laughs_. I somehow manage not to show how much _that_ shocks me. "Wouldn't want that."

"No, you wouldn't. And neither would I. There." I tie off the bandage and tug on his ragged sleeve. "All better. The shirt's pretty much a lost cause, though. You need a new one."

"You've been telling me that since I started following you around," he points out. "Thanks, Rahna."

"Least I could do," I shrug. "By the way, care to explain how you managed to show up right as my life was flashing before my eyes and I was thinking I was about to join Alistair?"

"Like I said, I like to worry. After you two left, I just couldn't stop worrying about you. Not Zevran, just you." He shrugs. "I didn't know why. It's not like you can't take care of yourself just as well as he can. So, after trying to ignore it for so long it was about to drive me insane, I gave up and followed you."

"And showed up just in time to save my life," I finish for him with a wry chuckle. We walk in silence for a few seconds before something dawns on me. "Oh, and what happened to you not liking to use magic?"

He shrugs. "You needed help."

I look up at him and grin. "Glad I was worth it."

He smiles back. "Very."

That when I notice how worn out he seems and remember what Wynne told me, about how using magic without a staff is incredibly tiring for a mage. "You sure you're all right?"

Jowan nods. "Rahna, I'm fine."

The way his shoulders are sagging contradicts that, but I let it go. I'm already busy trying to figure out what to do now. We should probably make tracks for Weisshaupt so I can tell the First Warden about the darkspawn and see if there's anything we should or even can do about them.

And I have an idea to spring on Jowan tonight at camp.

_A/N: So, let the making things up to Jowan commence! I couldn't resist making him all heroic. *smirk* *giggles crazily* This chapter was really hard to write, but really fun at the same time. It was also one of those things where I wrote it and pretty much immediately started wishing I could draw even halfway decently so I could illustrate it. I know I need to work on writing combat, particularly combat involving magic, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. AND! Things are going to stay *interesting* for a while. Wait 'til you hear Rahna's idea... Oh, and if I killed too many/not enough darkspawn, tell me! I counted about five times to make sure they kill the right number, but I may have missed something. That happens sometimes when I proof-read too much. :P_


	21. An Interesting Proposition

21. An Interesting Proposition

It takes us almost two hours to find Zevran. Jowan and I are _both_ exhausted by the time we run into the assassin.

"It appears you found your darkspawn, my dear minx," he comments as he takes in the ichor and blood splashed across my armor. "How many were there?"

"Nine," I manage, leaning back and trusting my weight to the tree behind me. "I thought I could handle them, but there was an emissary I hadn't seen at first, so he had to rescue me." I nod my head toward Jowan.

Zevran raises an eyebrow at the blood smeared across the front of Jowan's shirt. "Are you all right, my friend?"

Jowan nods. "I'm fine. It's not as bad as it looks. I just didn't have anything else to use to get the blood off my hand." He pushes up his sleeve so Zevran can see the bandage wrapped around his arm. "One of the darkspawn got lucky. Rahna took care of it."

Zevran's eyebrow rises even higher as he looks at me. "I didn't know you were good with healing, _amica_."

I shrug. "When we had Wynne, I didn't need to bother. A spirit healer would be much more capable with just about anything than I am."

**oOo**

_"Ow!"_

_"Stop squirming!" Wynne smacks Alistair's hand away as it instinctively moves to the trio of claw marks on his arm the mage is trying to heal. "Alistair, I won't be able to do anything if you don't hold still!"_

_ I stifle a giggle as I watch the two of them, then wince as Morrigan smears something on the deep scratches on the back of my leg. They're just above my knee, and the angle is too awkward for me to take care of them myself. Alistair and I ran into a pack of blight wolves while we were in the woods. I needed some things to make new poisons, and he volunteered to help me. I was very glad I said yes when the wolves showed up. We killed all of them, but the alpha was sodding hard to take down._

_ "Must he be so childish?" Morrigan mutters when she sees where I'm looking. "I must admit, I fail to see why you are so attracted to him. Though I'm sure he excels at following orders." The double meaning doesn't escape me, not after my talk with Leliana earlier._

_ I roll my eyes. "Morrigan, don't start."_

_ "I'm simply saying you could do far better." The witch's tone is scornful as she eyes the ex-templar, who's trying to hold still while Wynne slathers something on his wound and wraps a bandage around it._

_ I snort in disbelief. "Not sodding likely."_

_ Morrigan laughs. "Well, if you are so sure, I shall cease this line of conversation. For the time being at least." She finishes cleaning the gashes and bandages it. _

_ "Thank you, Morrigan." I stand and test putting weight on the leg. It seems fine. I hardly limp as I cross to where Alistair is still sitting, watching the fire as if hypnotized. I rest one hand on his shoulder. "Can your fair maiden have a kiss, my knight in shining armor?"_

_ "Anything for you, love." He turns as I sit down, wraps one arm around my shoulders, and obliges me in a completely satisfactory manner._

**oOo**

The memory fades, leaving me smiling at Wynne's admonishments about Alistair not scratching the wound, how she wasn't going to heal it if he opened it up again. He _was_ a bit of a baby about that, I must admit that.

But that's the past. And if I don't let it stay the past, Maker help me, I'll go insane. I turn my attention back to the matter at hand. "Zev, how far do you think we could travel, with what daylight we have left?" He's always been better with this kind of estimation than I am.

"That depends. How tired are you two?"

"I'm fine, but he was using magic like crazy without a staff, and I think he's more worn out than he'll admit." I give Jowan an 'I'm-on-to-you' look and get a sheepish smile in return. "So we need to take that into consideration."

"Rahna, I'll be fine," Jowan protests. "There's these wonderful things known rejuvanation spells. I'm not as good at them as some mages, but I'm good enough to manage."

I sigh. "Fine. You win. I can't really argue with that. So, Zev, if we were to head in the direction of the Anderfels, how far could we get with the daylight we have left?"

He considers for a minute. "We could reach where the Imperial Highway comes near the top end of Lake Calenhad, I believe."

"That's still almost a whole day's walk from the Circle Tower," I reassure Jowan when I see panic flicker across his face. "It'll be fine. I promise." I grin and nudge his good arm. "Not like I'd _let_ anyone do anything to you. You know I do crazy stuff to help my friends."

He smiles back. "All the time."

I feel a minor sense of victory about that smile.

**oOo**

Just as Zevran estimated, we reach the top end of Lake Calenhad just as the sun disappears behind the trees. The pinkish-orange light hangs on long enough to make our setting up camp much easier. By the time the sky is dark, we have a fire going that gives off more than enough light for me to clean my armor. The ichor started to really smell _bad_, and this is relatively new armor, at least for me. I shove up the sleeves of my shirt as they slide toward my wrists-and the grey-black goo I'm scraping off the leather-for the umpteenth time. I'm almost done, but it's annoying to have to pause and shove them clear every couple of minutes. I forgot to roll them up before I started, and now my hands are dirty enough I don't dare do more than nudge the sleeves higher with the heel of my hand.

I finally finish and set the armor aside. There's no point in putting it on when I'm going to bed soon. Tonight's Jowan's turn for first watch. I'm seriously tempted to try and bribe Zevran to take it. I _know_ Jowan is more tired than he's letting on, but he'd probably kill me if I played favorites like that.

And I need to talk to him. The more I think about the crazy idea I got after we finished killing all the darkspawn, the more I like the thought of at least _asking_. So I skirt the campfire and sit next to him. "Hey, Jowan?"

He looks up from staring at that scar again. "Yes?"

"I, um," I take a deep breath. "I had an idea I, um, wanted to, um, run by you."

"I don't think I've ever heard you stutter that many times inside a single sentence before," he points out, small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Well, it's, um, kind of a big deal."

"What?" He looks intrigued. Slightly wary, but still curious.

Another deep breath. _I can hardly believe I'm about to ask him this! _"I think you should join the Grey Wardens."

I get that same 'You're-completely-insane-aren't-you?' look I got initially for the crazy scheme to make the templars think he was dead. "_What_?"

I chuckle. "You heard me. I think you should join the Grey Wardens."

"Rahna, are you sure one of those darkspawn didn't thump you on the head? What would make you think _I_ should join the Grey Wardens?"

"Um, the way you saved my life is definitely a contributing factor. You're a talented mage-and we can always uses mages-and I just have this _feeling_ you'd make a good Warden."

"A feeling?"

I sigh. "I can't explain it, all right? You'd just have to trust me."

"But what about what I did?"

"Jowan, I was a murderer and a thief when Duncan recruited me. One of the others who was there to join at the same time as me was a cutpurse who was wanted in Denerim, like wanted _dead_, when he was recruited, and one of the other Wardens told me they will recruit blood mages. _Still practicing _blood mages. So what makes you think they would care? Besides, you're done with that."

"But-"

"And if you joined the Wardens, the Chantry couldn't touch you." I let my last-and _best_-point hang in the air for a full minute, casting a sideways glance at Zevran, who I know is eavesdropping, before I say anything. "At least think about it. We have to head for Weisshaupt anyway, so I can explain the situation to the First Warden. You have a while to think. I know it's not an easy choice, and I'm not going to make you join or stop being your friend if you decide you don't want to." I shrug. "Ask Zevran."

He nods. "I'll think about it. But no pestering me about it. Deal?"

I smile and hold out my hand. "Deal. I won't say a word to you about it 'til you bring it up." We shake on it and he moves off to take his watch.

Zevran chuckles. "_Il cielo mi aiuti._"

I fix him with a mild glare. "What?"

He shakes his head. "You. You really want to recruit him?"

"Why not? You didn't see him, Zev. I think he's a better mage than he gives himself credit for. He killed just as many of those darkspawn as I did."

"You said there were nine, minx. How does that work?"

"One was a team effort. He froze it, I shattered it. Other than that, four apiece. So there."

Zevran nods contemplatively and stares at the fire for a moment before asking, "So, aside from fire and arcane bolts, what does he have?"

"Well, he paralyzed one, killed the emissary with a lightning bolt, threw at least two stonefists, had an arcane shield up for a few seconds, and used a mind blast spell." I smile wryly. "And I have a feeling he healed up that gash on his arm a little before he let me look at it. Just from the way he was holding it. I know he'd never admit it, though." I toss the small twig I'd been fingering in the fire.

"You care for him, don't you?" Zevran asks, his voice just above a whisper. With a little imagination, I could hear jealousy in that quiet tone.

I shake my head. "Care _about_ him, as a friend who thinks he needs to let go of the past and move on, yes. Care _for_ him, as in romantically, no. I'm not ready to move on, and you know it. I wasn't just using that as an excuse, Zev."

He leans closer. "You know, _amica_, you're one to talk about people moving on."

"Whaddya mean?" I'm getting suspicious of where this is going.

"You still dream about Alistair, do you not?"

There's nothing mild about this glare. "That's none of your business."

"Minx, you told me you had dreamed about him at Warden's Keep. Don't lie."

"Well, so what if I am? How many sodding times do I have to say I'm not ready to let go yet?"

"As many as you feel you need to say it. I think you say it more to remind yourself than to remind anyone else."

"Wait, you think I don't want to move on? You think I like dreaming about him and knowing, _knowing_, it's not real and he's _dead_?" I stare at him incredulously for a second before sighing in exasperation and standing up. "You know what? Forget it. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. You get watch after Jowan." I retreat to my tent and bury myself in my bedroll. The tears start to leak out as I bury my face in the pillow.

It still smells like Alistair.

_A/N: According to Google translator, Il cielo mi aiuti = heaven help me. If it wrong just let me know!_


	22. Jowan's Choice

22. Jowan's Choice

_"So this could be it. Soon this will all be finished, one way or another."_

_ "I love you, Alistair." I want him to know, just in case the worst should happen._

_ "And I love you. Always." His voice cracks on the last word, and I send a silent and desperate prayer to the Maker, begging him to let us both live._

_ A shadow looms up behind Alistair, huge, dark, and ominous. The fear that wraps itself around my heart is so constricting I can't move, even when I recognize what it is._

_ The archdemon. Alistair turns, sees it, draws his sword. _

_ He looks back at me. "Remember, Rahna. Remember. I love you."_

_ "No! Alistair!" I try to stop him as he lunges forward, but a hurlock has appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. I can do nothing but watch helplessly, struggling against the darkspawn's unrelenting grip, as Alistair plunges toward the dragon, alone. "NO!"_

**oOo**

"Rahna! Rahna, wake up!" The unrelenting grip is still firm on my arm.

I frantically jerk free, still half-asleep. "_Alistair!_"

"No, minx." Zevran rests one hand on my shoulder and gently brushes my tangled hair out of my face. "Rahna, look at me."

I meet his eyes, heart still galloping in terror from the nightmare, chest heaving in huge, frantic gasps of air. "What...? The...the archdemon..."

"We are camped near Lake Calenhad. The archdemon was defeated more than two months ago. Do you remember, _amica_?" There's genuine concern in his tone.

I nod, still gasping. "It seemed so _real_," I whisper, not even thinking to ask why he's in my tent.

"What did?"

"We...we were in Denerim. Before Fort Drakon. He said he would always love me, and the archdemon showed up. He...went after it, told me to remember he loved me. I tried to run after him, but a darkspawn grabbed my arm and wouldn't let me." I don't fight the tears when they come. "I had to watch him..."

"It was only a dream, my dear."

"Don't!" I run a shaky hand through my hair, hoping the motion will take the edge off the adrenaline and terror coursing through me. It doesn't. "Please don't call me that right now," I beg, the tears giving my voice a ragged edge.

"As you wish," Zevran acquieses. "Are you all right now?"

My only answer is a strangled sob I can't keep back, followed by a pathetic whimper. I really thought I was past all this. But that nightmare, the real-ness of it, brought all the aches, all the hurt and loss and sorrow, screaming back. I bury my face in my hands and don't even try to fight the overwhelming rush of tears.

Zevran's hand slides off my shoulder and on to my back. He doesn't try anything, doesn't even say anything, which I have to admit shocks me. He just sits with me for I don't even know how long, letting me cry into my hands, knees pulled up into my chest, his hand resting on my back.

When I cease shaking with sobs, he repeats his question. "Are you all right?"

"I-I think so." I smear the tears away. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, _amica_. Are you feeling up to taking your watch?"

"I wouldn't want to sleep with that fresh in my mind even if I wasn't up to it, Zev," I point out, reaching for my swords.

He hands me the weapons. "Very well then. All has been quiet so far. I hope it stays the same for you."

"So do I." I hold the tent flap back and let him exit before I do. "Zev?"

"Yes, Warden?"

"Thank you."

He chuckles as he turns to enter his tent. "You are most welcome, minx."

**oOo**

I'm quiet the following day. Between exhaustion and crying, all I feel like doing is following Zev's lead wherever he chooses to go. I stare at my feet as I walk, reliving the dream over and over again, unable to erase the images from my mind.

_He looked so small._ I always had to look up to meet his eyes, he practically had to go down on one knee whenever I asked for a kiss, but next to that sodding huge dragon, Alistair looked so small. And helpless. And yet, he killed it. For me. He died to keep me safe. And as much as I'm trying not to dwell on it-huge step backwards-I can't help but let that thought run a loop in my head. He died to keep me safe.

"Rahna?"

"What?" My voice is hoarse as I turn my attention to Jowan.

"What was wrong? I mean, last night. I thought I heard you-"

"Crying?"

"Well, I was going to say screaming, actually. But now that you mention it, you do look like you were crying, too."

"Oh. Um, that's one lovely little thing I forgot to warn you about, with the whole Grey Warden thing, um, you have nasty dreams about darkspawn. They aren't as bad now as during a Blight, but they're still there."

"Really? And Alistair was involved how?" He shrugs when I shoot him a questioning look. "That's what woke me up, you screaming his name."

I shake my head. "It was nothing. Just a...just a bad dream. Zev woke me up from it, I'm fine, and honestly, it's something I'd rather not relive."

"I can understand _that_," he mutters. "Better than I wish I did."

I offer a wry smile and kick a small rock that's laying in my path. "Change of subject, before either of us gets too down, I've been wondering...why don't you have a staff? I mean, I know a lot of mages' staffs are pretty recognizable as exactly that, but I"ve seen some that just looked like ordinary staffs."

He shrugs. "I had one for a while, when I was helping refugees, but I had to get rid of it when I was running from the templars, after that one man told them about me. And I haven't exactly had the money to buy a new one at my disposal. Food was more important."

"An understandable decision," I chuckle.

"And besides that, I didn't even really need it," he points out. "I didn't use magic much at all. so it wasn't like I was going to wear myself out if I didn't have a staff."

"Mm." That makes sense. "So _if_ you decide to join the Wardens, we'd need to get you a new one."

"_If_ I join, yes, I guess I would need a new staff."

"Mm," I mumble again, tucking that fact away for later.

**oOo**

The next week is incredible monotonous and uneventful. Routine. Boring. Walk all day, set up camp, rotate through watches, repeat the next day. With the occasional nightmare involving Alistair and the archdemon thrown in for me.

As we get near to Lydes, I decide we should stop and buy more supplies when we reach the town. We're starting to run low, and I don't think we have enough to make it to Venchiel. There's still a good bit of daylight left when we reach Lydes, so we set up camp and Jowan volunteers to stay and watch our stuff while Zev and I go into town.

It sounds like a good plan, so after figuring out what we need, Zevran and I are on our way. When we enter Lydes, I'm surprised at how many people there are. It's not a very large town, and there are more people than I was expecting. Zevran heads for a merchant's store.

I start to follow him, but stop when I see the store three doors down from Zev's destination. A tailor. _Jowan needs a new shirt_, the little voice in my head whispers. _You've only told him that half a dozen times._ I know I have time. Zevran's picky about food; he'll be in there for quite a while. And I think I can at least roughly guess the right size to buy. And Maker knows I have more than enough money. "Zev, I'm gonna go in here. You know what to get."

He nods and waves without turning around. I grin and head into the tailor's shop.

"Hello," the woman behind the counter greets me as I walk in, a tired smile spreading across her thin face.

I smile back. "Hello."

"How can I help you?" Her hands are busy folding a shirt as she asks.

"I need to buy something for a friend of mine."

"What do you need?" She reaches for another shirt.

"A shirt. His is in pretty bad shape."

One of her eyebrows quirks ever so slightly at the 'his', but she doesn't comment, which I appreciate. "Well, those are over here." As I follow her over to the section she means, she suddenly blurts out," I'm sorry, but d'you mind if I ask who you are?"

"Zerahna Tabris."

"The-The Grey Warden? The one who ended the Blight?"

Knowing what she means, I nod. "Yes. Out of curiosity, how did you know?"

"My husband was in Denerim, and my son. They saw you at the queen's celebration after the end of the Blight and told me what you looked like. An elf with teal eyes and a scar down the left side of her face."

"That's me," I admit.

Her face lights up, and suddenly doesn't look so haggard anymore. "My husband and son are still alive because of you. Thank you."

"You're welcome." I turn my attention to the shirts. I've never been much for shopping-not much opportunity in the Alienage anyway-and the only human man I've ever been really close to was Alistair, and a warrior has a much different build than your average mage. Jowan's skinnier than Alistair was. A _lot_ skinnier. So I'll be using rough guessing to make my selection.

After about ten minutes, I have it narrowed down to two shirts. One is white, and the other is such a light shade of blue it looks white until you contrast it against something that is actually white. "How much for each of these?"

"The white one's five coppers, the light blue's three silver."

I had a feeling. The blue one is made of a nicer material, finer weave, and probably harder to make. "I'll take both of them." I pull out one of the almost four hundred sovereigns in my money pouch and slide it across the counter to her. "Keep the extra."

She blinks at me, then stares at the gold coin, touching it almost reverently. "I...I...Warden, I can't...this is too much..."

"No, I think it's just the right amount." I smile, stow the shirts in my pack, and leave with her "Maker bless you!" ringing in my ears.

Zevran is lounging outside the merchants store, slicing off bits of an apple with his dagger when I emerge. "All finished, minx?"

"Uh-huh." I nod, shouldering the almost empty pack. "How'd you make out?"

"Considering the counter was being watched by a rather nubile brunette with smoldering dark eyes, who was more than willing to give me a discount in exchange for a few...favors, I think I did rather well." He shoots me a roguish grin that makes me decide not to ask what these 'favors' were. "Come, my dear minx, let us return to camp before our mage friend get worried." He tosses me the remaining half of the apple. I chuckle and bite out a chunk of the meat as I follow his lead back to our camp.

**oOo**

"Here. For you." I pull the white shirt out of my pack and toss it to Jowan. "And-" I wrestle the blue one out and lob it at him as well "-an extra. Just in case."

"Rahna, you didn't have to-"

"Yes, actually, I did," I interrupt his protest. "You _needed_ a new shirt. You know that."

"But-"

"No buts." I grin and tug on his ponytail. "Now, you change while Zev and I split up these provisions."

He rolls his eyes but complies as I turn to help Zevran. "Yes, ma'am."

The teasing undertone I hear in the jab feels like another minor victory. "Be quiet." Zevran laughs at the two of us. I playfully whack the back of his head as we divide up the food. "Jowan, how much do you think you can carry?"

"As much as you need me to," he replies, his voice muffled as he yanks his old shirt over his head.

"No, Jowan-" I turn around and can't help but stare. His back is covered in poorly-healed, cris-crossing dark red scars. He may have been a blood mage, but I _know_ he did _not_ do that to himself. "What...?"

A wry half smile tugs at his lips and he sighs. "I told you the arlessa had me tortured, Rahna. Remember?"

I swallow hard. "Oh. Yes, I remember."

"They healed. I'm fine." He pulls the new white shirt on, hiding the scars. His smile turns genuine. "Would you like to do the honors?" He hands me the old shirt.

"With pleasure." I grin and toss it in the fire.

"Oh, and Rahna?" Jowan sits near the fire. "I've made up my mind. About joining the Wardens."

"And?" I demand, dropping to my knees so we're at eye level.

He drags one hand through his hair, takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. "I'll do it."

_A/N: Aaand there ya have it, folks. :D I thought about making you all wait another chapter, but I decided to be nice. Now we'll have to wait and see if he survives the Joining..._


	23. Guilty

23. Guilty

My instinctive first reaction to Jowan's decision is to hug him so forcefully I almost knock him over. "_Really_?"

He laughs, bracing one arm against the ground to remain upright. "No. I just wanted to see what you would do if I said yes. Of _course_ really."

"Hold on a second. Did you just _tease_ me?" I demand, finally letting go and rocking back to sit on my heels. He just _grins_ at me and I shake my head in amazement. "Maker's breath, I must be dreaming."

"Thanks a lot."

"No, you just...up 'til that run-in with the darkspawn, I don't think I could have gotten a _real_ smile outta you if our lives depended on it, and now, just over a week later, you're _teasing me_."

He shrugs. "I can stop if you want."

"Oh, no you don't. I like you this way just fine, my friend." I smile and push myself to my feet. "Right now, however, I'm hungry."

Before I can do anything to remedy that situation however, Zevran pulls me aside. "Are you certain you only care about him as a friend?" he hisses in an undertone.

I snort. "Of course."

"That...reaction makes me think otherwise," he mutters, still holding on to my arm.

"What, me hugging him because he said he'd join the Wardens? Sod it all, Zev, if _you_ ever change your mind and join, I'll react the same way. Actually, you'd probably also get a kiss on the cheek 'cause I've known you longer."

He's still eyeing me skeptically. "Rahna."

"Zev, I swear on...on Alistair's ashes-" _Maker, that __**really**__ hurt to say!_ "-I. _**Only**_. Care about Jowan as a _friend_. Is _that_ good enough for you?" I pull my arm free.

He just nods slowly.

I do believe my vehemence just accomplished the impossible-rendering Zevran Arainai speechless. I turn away and leave him staring at me as I dig through one of the packs to find something to eat. I don't want him to see the extra moisture in my eyes. Swearing by _Alistair's_ ashes was the only way I could think of to convince him I'm telling the sodding truth, but it still felt like ripping out my heart all over again. My hand closes around some dried meat and I yank it out with one hand, using the other to clear the almost-tears out of my eyes.

**oOo**

Tonight's my turn for first watch, and after I'm sure both Zev and Jowan are asleep, I set about wrestling with some of the things buzzing around my head. Mostly working my way past Alistair-_Don't hold your breath_- and what Zevran said the night I suggested Jowan join the Wardens.

_"How many sodding times do I have to say I'm not ready to let go yet?"_

_ "As many as you feel you need to say it. I think you say it more to remind yourself than to remind anyone else."_

Part of me can't help but wonder if he's right. Am I just afraid to let go? Am I feeling guilty for being happy, well, sort of, traveling with Zev and Jowan? That thought brings a memory from almost four months ago swirling back to the surface. Not sensing any danger around, I indulge it.

**oOo **

_"Did you find her?" Soris' expression is hopeful when he sees me walk back through the door of my house. It fades when he sees I'm alone._

_ I shake my head, heart breaking for my cousin. "No. We found my father, and Valendrian, but Valora wasn't there. They must've already...taken her away." I raise my hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I'm sorry, Soris."_

_ He sighs. "I knew there wasn't much hope I'd see her again. I just thought if anyone could find her, it would be you."_

_ Now I feel even worse. "I'm really, really sorry."_

_ "Don't feel guilty, Rahna. I shouldn't have said that."_

_ I let out a wry chuckle. "I already have the fate of the entire world depending on me, what's one more elf?"_

_ He almost laughs, but not quite. "Still..."_

_ "Soris?" I rest my hand on his shoulder._

_ "What, Cousin?"_

_ "It's okay to smile, you know. Eventually. And you can keep looking, if you want. After we get things settled with the throne, I'll be owed something."_

_ He shakes his head. "No. I'll just look myself. Thanks for the offer, though."_

_ "Anything else you need?"_

_ "No. Just time."_

_ "I understand that. It took me almost a month to move past Nelaros, and I didn't even get a chance to actually marry him." I twist the gold band on my right ring finger. "I need to go. Eamon's probably wondering what happened to me."_

_ He nods. "Good luck, Cousin. We're proud of you. You know that, right?"_

_ "Yes. I know." I give him one last parting hug and head back for Eamon's estate._

**oOo**

I can't help but wonder if Soris is still looking for Valora, or if he gave up. I think, despite his initial reluctance to get married, he loved her. But looking for one particular elf amid the dozens-if not hundreds-the Tevinter slavers have taken would be hard enough in and of itself. An _elf_ trying to look into that wouldn't get very far before running into some bigoted human who won't tell him anything simply because he's an elf. I know in my head he won't find her. Just like I know Alistair's dead. Convincing my _heart_ of those two facts is much harder. I still find myself reaching for Alistair when I wake up some mornings, expecting him to be sleeping next to me and feeling horribly empty when he's not there.

Something rustles in the surrounding woods, capturing my attention and putting those thoughts on hold. I narrow my eyes and stare at the swaying brush. A fox emerges and cocks its head, staring right back at me as if wondering what I'm doing in its hunting grounds. I toss an apple core in the animal's direction. It skitters backwards, then cautiously advances to sniff the skeletal fruit before turning up its nose and leaving. I smile. _Someone's more interested in catching that raccoon that was poking around earlier. _I turn my attention back to my thoughts.

I finally have to admit to myself that Zevran's probably right. I keep telling him I'm not ready to move past Alistair yet because I feel guilty for being happy, or at least having moments where I'm not miserable, even though Alistair's dead. _But would he want you miserable? Didn't he say his favorite thing about you was your smile? Followed closely by your laugh? He more than anyone would __**want**__ you happy, so why do you refuse to admit it's possible to be genuinely happy without him?_

I don't have an answer, and realize I've just given myself something else to puzzle over, and just as my watch is coming to an end. _Wonderful. I'll never manage to fall asleep now._ I tug on my hair in frustration and toy with not waking Jowan up just yet. He and Zevran would both bawl me out if I did that, however, so I reluctantly push off the overgrown log I was leaning against and move to wake him.

"Jowan, it's your turn." I don't bother to supress my smile-he's asleep and can't see me anyway-when I pull back the flap of his tent. He's sleeping half on his stomach, knees pulled halfway up toward his chest and one arm curled under his pillow. My grin widens as I follow the prompting of the whisper in my head and pair a slightly louder repetition of his name with a feather-light brush of my fingers against the bottom of his foot. I used to wake Soris up like this all the time. _C'mon, Rahna, you know it'll only work if he's-_

Jowan's foot yanks back under the dark grey blanket and triumphs widens my grin even further.

_-ticklish._

"Jowan," I hiss again in a tone just above a whisper.

"Not yet, Lily," he mumbles, making me feel even more guilty for waking him up.

"No, Jowan, it's Rahna. It's your turn for watch." I lean forward and gently shake his shoulder.

"Huh?" He pushes himself up, wedges his elbow against the ground to keep distance between his head and his pillow, and swipes wild strands of hair back out of his face.

"Your turn for watch," I repeat, still grinning. "Sorry if I interrupted a good dream."

He shakes his head, sitting up and using his finger to comb his hair back into a clumsy replica of his normal ponytail. "Don't be. You need sleep, too." He rubs one hand across his eyes. "Go to bed."

I'm tired, so I don't argue, just crawl out of his tent and into mine, where-despite my worries-I collapse from exhaustion and am asleep three seconds after my head hits the pillow.

**oOo**

_"Hey." The red-haired and very familiar figure turns to face me._

_ I can't believe this. How did she get here? This must be another vision."Shianni?"_

_ She smiles and shrugs. "Who else? It's good to see you, I suppose. Life out there's been good to you, hasn't it?" Her smile turns wistful. "You're respected, even among humans. Do you remember us, where you came from, and what some of us still face every day?" Her tone is pained and guilt spears my heart._

_ "Yes, I do, Shianni," I reply. I only think of her and Soris and my father every night, sometimes even see them in my dreams._

_ She gives me a knowing look. "You don't even feel much anymore when you remember it, do you? You've move on, past the horror of that night."_

_ I know exactly which night she means, and I feel myself die a little inside because she's right. "Shianni..."_

_ "I envy you," she confesses. "You've gone on to other things, things I can only dream of." The wistful look disappears, replaced by a more resolute expression. "You have a great task to complete. I want you to take this," she insists, pressing a necklace into my hand, "I think you should have it." The smile returns. "Seeing you now gives me hope...for all of us." The figure disappears, leaving me to wrestle with the freshly surfaced guilt her appearance brought out._

_ "Rahna?" Alistair's tone is questioning and he rests a hand on my shoulder when I haven't moved after a few seconds._

_ "Give me a minute," I manage, looking down at the necklace as I walk around the corner. Nelaros' face flickers across the smooth metal and my breath catches in my throat. When Nola, Valora, and Soris follow in quick succession, I slide to the ground and let the wall support me as I cry._

_ "What's wrong, love?" Alistair startles me, and I jump. "Sorry." He crouches next to me and wraps one arm around my shoulders. "Anything I can do to help?"_

_ I shake my head. "She was right. I've almost forgotten about how horrible that was, what must still be happening in the Alienage. That night wasn't as horrible for me as it was for her to begin with, and it's already faded."_

_ "Rahna, you-"_

_ "No! I need to __**remember**__, Alistair! They're my family! Grey Warden or no, that was my cousin! If I can't even remember them..." I let the sentance trail off into sobs as another glance at the pendant reveals my father, a sad smile creasing his face. I slide closer to Alistair, burying my face in his chest despite the plate armor he's wearing. _

_ His arms slide around me and he holds me close. "You have nothing to feel guilty about, Rahna. You did everything you could-"_

_ "How do you know? You weren't even there!"_

_ "Because I know you," he replies gently, his thumb brushing tears off my face. "And I know you would never do any less than everything you could for people you care about."_

_ He's right, and I know it. "I love you, you know," I whisper, pushing myself slightly higher to kiss him on the cheek._

_ "I know. And I love you, too." He returns the kiss, catching the corner of my mouth. "Shall we?" He stands and offers me a hand up._

_ I nod and accept the help. "We shall." I leave the guilt behind as we press farther into the Temple._

_A/N: So, this took longer than I thought it would to write, on account of being drafted to make dinner. And, um, stopping multiple times to squee picturing sleepy!Jowan. I'm not even kidding. I think I may be in love with him now. _


	24. Jealousy

24. Jealousy

Zevran's miffed at me again. Not as badly as after the Antivan Brady Incident, but still miffed. He leads in relative silence, only speaking when necessary, and hasn't called me 'minx' in going on three days now.

It does bother me a little bit, but I spend the time filling Jowan in on what I know about the Grey Wardens' history. I hardly know everything, and certain things I'm saving for later. But I tell him about Garahel, and Sophia, and anyone or anything else I can remember learning while traveling around Ferelden. This is when I find out something else about Jowan: he's a _very_ good listener. He only interrupts me a couple times, and then only to ask a clarifying question.

As we walk I sneak occasional glances at Zev. His shoulders seem to grow more and more tense the longer we walk. That's when it hits me. As strenuously as he would deny it, I think Zevran is jealous of how quickly I formed a friendship with Jowan, and how strong it is. And despite my swearing to the contrary, some part of him probably feels threatened that it will turn into more than friendship down the road.

"I need to talk to Zevran," I finally admit to Jowan. "I think I made him mad again."

"Is this about whatever you two fought over near Lydes?" he asks as he pulls the cord free from his ponytail to retie it.

I nod. "Yeah. I have a feeling some things aren't as resolved as I thought they were. And I think he-" I shake my head and don't finish the sentence. "Never mind. Sorry."

"S'alright. Just go talk to him." Jowan smiles. "And I promise not to eavesdrop."

"I'll hold you to that," I shoot back over my shoulder as I quicken my step to catch up with Zev. "So why are you mad at me this time?"

His eyes flick in my direction before returning to the path in front of him. "I am not mad at you, _amica_."

"Oh? Then is there another reason you haven't called me minx in three days? Is there another reason you hardly have spoken to me beyond waking me up for my watch and consulting me as to our route?"

"I figured you would like the chance to talk to your new recruit. Which certainly seems to be the case." His tone is borderline icy-and definitely tinged with jealousy.

"Zev, I'm only talking to Jowan so much because you've been ignoring me!" I give my hair an irritated rake to get the willful locks out of my face and back where they belong. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Not in particular, Warden."

I actually _wince_. He hasn't called me 'Warden' without 'my dear' tacked on the front since...before Orzammar. "Damn it, Zev, if you're mad at me just sodding _tell me_ so I can apologize or fix any mistakes I may have made or whatever!"

"Very well, if you wish. My question is this: how is it you are so willing to befriend a blood mage when you have such an abhorrence for blood magic? Even to the point of risking-and losing, I might add-the man you love to avoid it?"

I'd started to stomp out ahead of him, but Zevran's demand has the same effect as a paralysis glyph, freezing my feet to the ground. "_What did you say?"_

"You heard me, Rahna, did you not?"

"How in the name of all that is holy did you _know_ about _that_?"

"You are the one always boasting of my stealth skills, my dear. You're the last person in Thedas I would have suspected of underestimating them." This 'my dear' is not playful, casual, or teasing. The acid edging his tone could eat away my resolve were I not so sodding _furious_ now.

"You heard Morrigan?" I demand.

"I did. I heard when she offered you a chance to spare both your life and Alistair's. I heard when you told her no upon finding what it entailed. I heard when you lied to Alistair and told him it was noth-"

"Just _**STOP!**_"I interrupt in a near-shriek, fighting back the urge to slap him. "I do _**not**_ want to talk about it!" I hiss under my breath, knowing I'm going to have to, unless Jowan is inhumanly un-curious. And with the number of things I've already had to tell him, I highly doubt that.

**oOo**

_"What was Morrigan doing in your room, love?"_

_ I fake a smile as I crawl onto Alistair's bed. "Nothing. She had something she wanted me to do for her, but I don't really want to do it. Not with us leaving for Denerim in the morning. Besides, I already killed her sodding mother, I think that's enough. Especially considering I almost lost __**you**__ in the process." I trace one finger along the jagged bite marks scarred across his chest._

_ "Still, this must've been important to her, at least. I've never seen her leave in such a huff before." His fingers toy aimlessly with my hair._

_ "You must've enjoyed watching that."_

_ "Immensely," he grins. "You sure it was nothing?"_

_ I shake my head. "Nothing I felt in the least motivated to do." I kiss him on the cheek, shuddering as an image of him with the Witch who left in a rush of anger and magic fills my mind. "I'll never regret telling her no. Not with you waiting for me."_

_ He laughs, and I can feel it rumbling up from his chest as I snuggle closer. "What were they thinking, giving us separate rooms?"_

_ "A most grievous error on their part," I agree, and kiss him full on the mouth. _

**oOo**

"Do you still not regret telling her no?" Zevran's look is nearly daring me to lie and pretend I don't.

"What do you think?" I seethe. "Zevran, you're my friend, but there are some thing I don't ever wish to discuss. With anyone. I'm sorry if you think I shouldn't be friends with a _former _blood mage-"

"Rahna, even if he doesn't use them, he still knows how to do the spells. He can't escape that label any more than you can shake free of the title you earned on Fort Drakon. He will _always_ be a blood mage and you will _always_ be the Hero of Ferelden."

I_ hate_ it when he's right like this. "And you'll _always_ be an incorrigible flirt and an assassin?"

He grins and the tension of our conversation shatters. "Of course. Though if you consider me a mere flirt, _amica_, you don't know me near as well as you suppose you do."

"How come I can't stay mad at you?" I sigh, not even bothering to fight my smile. I know it would be useless anyway.

"It is a gift, minx," he replies, his grin widening. "One I never hesitate to utilize."

I sigh. "Like I said, incorrigible." But relief fills my chest at the word 'minx'. All is now right in the world. _Or at least as right as it gets without Alistair._

**oOo**

"What was that all about?" Jowan asks as we set up camp.

I huff a disobedient lock of hair out of my eye before replying. "I thought you weren't going to eavesdrop."

"Rahna, I could've had my fingers jammed in my ears and _still_ heard both of you. And the fact you went white with rage was kind of hard to miss as well," he points out. "So now I want to know."

"Know what?" I ask, skirting what I'm pretty sure he means.

"Why you didn't answer Zevran's question. I mean, you've explained to me, what, three times why you're willing to trust me. So why don't you tell him?" Jowan sits down on the grass and looks up at me. Much as I enjoy not being the one looking up, I know how much of a crick that angle can put in your neck over the course of a conversation, so I plunk down on a rock, which puts us pretty much eye to eye.

"He wouldn't understand."

"Why not? From what I understand, he was one of those 'Why would you ever trust him?' types as well."

"He was. And that's part of the problem. You've been traveling with us for, what, two months?"

He nods. "Something like that."

"Two months after he joined my group during the Blight, I didn't even trust him enough to let him take watch alone."

"Oh. But didn't he try to kill you?"

"Exactly. And you didn't." I pull up a weeds growing at the base of my rock and twist it absently around my fingers. "There's part one of his problem."

"What's part two?"

"Part two is because..." I sigh. "Because in every other instance we encountered blood magic..." _Maker, why is it so hard to tell him this?_ "I had a rather zero-tolerance viewpoint. As far he's concerned, trusting you like I did was...well, out of character is kind of an understatement. Aside from you, there were two other blood mages we ran into after Zev joined my group that asked for their lives." I swallow hard. "I killed both of them."

He doesn't say anything.

"Jowan?"

"So why didn't you kill _me_?" he finally asks, his voice so quiet I can hardly hear him. "I didn't even ask you not to."

"The same reason I didn't kill a blood mage I encountered in the Circle tower. You were sorry for what you had done. Caladrius and Avernus," I shake my head, "they weren't sorry. Caladrius even tried to offer me the power from the blood of his prisoners, who happened to be elves I'd grown up knowing. One was my hahren. But you and that woman were _sorry_." I reach over and rest my hand on his arm. "I'm a sucker for people who want a chance to fix things they've done wrong. I should probably explain that to Zev."

"It would probably help," Jowan agrees.

"Aside from that," I shrug and smile at him, "I've just found it really easy to be friends with you."

"Rahna, I think you'd find it easy to be friends with just about anyone."

I concede the point with a sheepish grin. "You're probably right." I stand and crack my knuckles. "I need to go talk to Zevran. You have first watch tonight, right?"

"Uh-huh."

Zevran is sharpening one of his swords when I sit next to him. "Zev?"

"Yes, minx?"

"I was wondering which way you think we should go."

"What do you mean, _amica_?"

"Well, we're not quite to Montsimmard," I explain. "If we're heading for Weisshaupt, we can either cut across the Heartlands, or follow the Imperial Highway around the Waking Sea."

He gives me a bemused smile. "Well, what benefits would there be to each way?"

I shrug. "Cutting across the Heartlands would shave a couple days off our journey, but Val Firmin would be a good place to buy more supplies, if we need them."

"Aren't you forgetting the river, minx?" Zev chuckles. "If we were to cut across the Heartlands, there's the river connecting Lake Celestine and the Waking Sea. No crossings as of yet."

"Oh. Right." I feel my face heat up. "The long way it is, then. What would I do without you?"

"I do not know, but I suspect it would end in a highly unpleasant manner," Zevran laughs.

I sock him in the arm. "Very funny."

_A/N: Sorry this chapter's a little on the short side. My muse deserted me._


	25. Talents

25. Talents

Thanks to Zevran's amused reminder about the lack of crossing for the river, we avoid a detour that would have wasted the better part of three or four days. And made me feel like a complete idiot. I'm only marginally better with geography and maps than Alistair was. One more thing I should know by now to let Zev handle. He has practically all of Ferelden-and Orlais, and Antiva-memorized, hill for hill and stone for stone, from all his missions for the Crows.

Jowan catches me in the middle of berating myself for said ignorance of geography as we head for Val Firmin. "What is it this time?"

"Huh?" I look up at him, abruptly yanked out of my thoughts.

"I know you're beating yourself up for _something_. So what is it this time? I thought you and Zevran worked everything out."

I sigh. "We did. And then I promptly showed off how sorely lacking my memory of Fereldan geography is." I shrug and smile wryly. "Well, at least it helped with the whole 'patching things up' side of things. And Zev got a chuckle out of it."

"So the Hero of Ferelden has a chink in her armor?"

I glare at him. "Call me that again and the result will not be pleasant," I warn with a laugh. "And that's hardly the only chink in my armor. In addition to my hopelessness with geography and maps and stuff like that, until recently I was probably the worst cook in Ferelden, I can't carry a tune to save my life, I'm impulsive, hot tempered, and have trouble sticking to The Plan, whatever it might be for a particular fight, and you know I snore. I also had this habit of swiping things, just because I could." I allow myself a nostalgic smile. "Alistair cured me-somewhat-of the last one, though."

"Well then, with such a list of flaws, what _are_ you good for?" Jowan teases.

I resist the urge to sock him in the arm-barely, and only because I know it's not quite healed yet from when he saved my neck. "Sarcastic comments, bluntly stating the truth, doing crazy things to help my friends, concocting unorthodox solutions to pesky darkspawn-related problems, fighting, making hard decisions, teasing Zev, stubbornly refusing to die, and leading. As long as I already know where I'm going."

Jowan chuckles. "I see. And as a friend who's been helped by one of said crazy schemes, I must admit that _is_ a rather useful talent."

"Of course it is. Honed over many years of inadvertantly landing my cousin Soris in trouble and feeling responsible for getting him back _out_ again."

"Ah. Little troublemaker when you were younger?"

"Oh, absolutely horrid. And I always seemed to find it without even trying was the funny part." I shake my head. "And Soris was always right there as my lookout or partner in crime or sidekick or whatever. He was good at mollifying people, smoothing the feathers I ruffled. Probably averted as much possible trouble as I actually landed us in," I admit with a small chuckle.

"And he still speaks to you?" Jowan grins.

I roll my eyes at the teasing jab, wrinkling my nose. "Such is the downside-for him-of hero worshipping me."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever feel so inclined."

"Well, now I'm an honest-to-goodness _hero_, as everyone keeps reminding me-" I narrow my eyes and stare at him pointedly, "-so it wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"No, I don't suppose it would."

**oOo**

We reach Val Firmin with just a day's worth of supplies left. Just like at Lydes, Jowan offers to stay with the camp while Zev and I take care of buying supplies. I think it's force of habit, seeing as he probably avoided towns or cities as much as he possibly could while hiding from the templars. So Zev and I head into the city-and this is a _city_, not a village or town-to restock on food. That's all we really need, since the only health poultices we've used were a couple for my scar and then the one for Jowan after our run-in with the darkspawn. Those supplies are still fine, but we go through food quickly, which is mostly my fault. That pesky 'increased appetite' side effect of being a Warden can be a real pain sometimes.

"Tell me something, minx," Zevran begins as we near the outskirts, the first either of us has spoken since leaving camp, "I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation, and I noticed your mentioning Alistair did not incite a rush of tears and hours of staring moodily at the ground."

I sigh. "D'you have a point here, Zev?"

"I am merely curious if you have begun to move on."

"Yes, I guess I have," I admit after thinking about it for a few seconds. "You were right, Zev. About me always saying I wasn't over him, wasn't ready to move, because I didn't want to be ready to move on. I still don't, if I'm honest."

"Oh?" He raises one eyebrow. "But you said you had begun to."

I sigh and rake my hand through my hair, which is barely too short to pull back. "What I mean is that I'm not going to melt into a puddle of tears every time I think about him, I'm not going to feel guilty if I smile or laugh or enjoy life without him here. _He's_ the one who couldn't stop going on about my smile, so I figure he'd want me to exhibit it as often as possible."

"I see." He nods. "And have you managed to enjoy yourself recently?"

"Please. How could I _not_, traveling with you?"

Zev chuckles and mock-bows. "Thank you, my dear."

"And Jowan's a good friend, too. Watching him let go of his past and learn smiling never killed anybody has been...satisfying to see."

"Yes, I saw the triumph in your eyes the first time he smiled."

"You don't miss much, do you?" I ignore the almost imperceptible note of jealousy in his voice.

"I'm the one who taught you to notice _everything_, remember, _amica_?" he teases as we nod a greeting to the guards at the city gates.

"That's true, you did," I concede, looking for a store or stall selling food. Zevran's eyes light up when we find one, mainly because it's being run by drop dead gorgeous, honey blonde twins.

"Allow me to handle this, dear minx," he grins. I stand aside and do just that. What follows is one of the most impressive bits of flirting-innuendo and all that is patently _**Zev**_-I have ever seen in my life.

Now, I've fluttered my eyelashes and complimented a weaponsmith or merchant to drive up the price of something I'm selling or down the price for something I'm buying, but all my 'feminine wiles' pale in comparison to my assassin friend's talent. It starts with calling the ladies-Sophia and Claire-goddesses of beauty("Surely the Maker Himself would be struck speechless"), and works its way through how they surely must be kind in addition to beautiful, no? Sophia is putty in his hands at this point, giggling and blushing like an adolescent complimented by the man of her dreams, but Claire has proven-thus far-resistant to his charms.

"I have fallen for smooth talkers before, ser elf," she scolds in an Orlesian accent so thick it puts Leliana's to shame. "They were never worth it."

"It is most assuredly their loss, my dear woman, to not appreciate you."

The faintest hint of a blush tints her cheeks. "Well, I-"

"Tell me, did they use you and leave of their own accord?"

She nods.

"_Pazzi_," Zevran mutters under his breath. "If I had the privilege of loving a woman as beautiful as you, I would treasure her like a rare jewel."

Her blush intensifies. "I wish they would learn from you."

As if sensing she's near cracking, Zev sidles closer, covering her hand with his. "Alas, _cara cuore_, some are born with no sense. Others, however, can appreciate the loveliness of a woman such as yourself." He teases a loose strand of her hair between his fingers. "I could show you while my friend completes business with your sister."

I know before she opens her mouth that she'll agree. That's Zev for you. Sure enough, as the two of them slip into the back room, Sophia offers me a sodding decent discount. _I'd complain about his methods, but they work so damn well._

**oOo**

They have yet to reappear when Sophia and I are finished, so I decide to see what other shops there are nearby. This turns out to be a good choice, as next door to the sisters' store is Val Firmin's version of the Wonders of Thedas. Remembering Jowan's admission he'd need a new staff if he joined the Wardens, I shoulder the full supply pack and step inside.

"Welcome to the Marvels of Lake Celestine. How may I assist you?" the Tranquil proprieter drones as the door closes behind me.

I smile pleasantly at him and eye the wall full of mages staffs. "I need one of those. One of the ones that is simpler looking but still somewhat powerful."

He takes in my armor, the swords strapped to my back. "You are no mage."

"No, but my friend is. He's unable to come himself, so I'm buying a staff for him. I know what he needs." My gaze settles on one particular staff hanging low on the wall. It looks just like an ordinary quarterstaff of highly polished wood, down to the leather cord wrapped around a section near the top. If it wasn't hanging in a store like this, I probably would never assumed it had any magic capabilities whatsoever. "What enchantments are on that one?" I ask, pointing at the staff.

"It has been enchanted to increase the damage of fire and lightning spells, heal injuries, and help the user regain mana in combat."

_Perfect_. "How much?"

"Twenty sovereigns," the mage replies in the same level monotone.

That's a lot. But from traveling with Wynne and Morrigan, I know for a staff like this, it's only slightly high. "Could I talk you down to eighteen?"

"The prices are not up for negotiation," he answers in the same, slightly grating, inflectionless tone. "That staff costs twenty sovereigns."

"Very well." _It's not like I don't have enough money._ I pull out the coins and hand them over. The Tranquil takes the money, counts it, then nods and hands me the staff. I thank him and leave the store.

Zevran is lounging against the wall of Claire and Sophia's store when I step into the street, his mouth curled in a cat-like grin. "Now what were you up to, minx?"

"Well, you weren't done yet, and Jowan said if he joined the Wardens he'd need a new staff, so I decided not to waste an opportunity when it presented itself. You look like you enjoyed yourself."

"I always do, _amica_." He smirks. "Though I must admit she will be one of my fonder memories. I may even return occasionally to keep said memory fresh."

"I don't know whether to shake my head over you using her like that, or feel jealous of your ability to sweet-talk your way into anything."

He chuckles as we head for the gate. "If you settle on the former, she did quite a good job of using me, as well, dear minx."

"Spare me the intimate details, please," I beg, grinning nonetheless. "I don't want to know."

He sighs. "Very well. Your loss, _cara_." That smirk is back.

"I'm sure I'll survive," I shoot back dryly, adjusting the pack to sit more comfortably on my back.

**oOo**

"Don't say a word," I warn Jowan as I hand over the staff, not even giving him an opening to voice the protest that flickers in his eyes. "It's something you need, you said so yourself, we could afford it-easily, I might add, and that's all there is to it."

"Fine. I won't tell you you shouldn't have. On one condition." He runs one hand along the polished wood, rubs his thumb over the leather binding.

"What?"

"Tell me how much it cost."

"The price was reasonable for a staff with the enchantments this has on it," I hedge.

Jowan sighs and gives me a Look. "Rahna." The protest in his eyes has changed to cool stubbornness that I can tell would at least match mine.

So I cave in to avoid a standoff. "Fine. Twenty sovereigns." I cover his hand with mine to keep him from letting go of the staff. "If you say one word, I'm going to hit you. _Hard_. It's worth at least that much. It increases fire and lightning spell damage by half over again, has a healing enchantment on it, and helps with regaining mana. It's perfect for you and _you need it_. So stop feeling guilty and sodding_** take **_it." _I think this is the closest I've ever come to actually being __**mad**__ at him_, I realize as I let go of the staff and turn to help Zev with fixing something for us to eat.

"Rahna, wait a second." Jowan grabs my arm as I start to walk away and pulls me back. "I'm sorry and you're right. I'm so used to having to take care of myself, I guess I'm out of practice with accepting gifts," he admits, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "So let me try this again: Thank you. I needed a new staff and this one _is_ perfect."

"I'm glad." I smile and give him a friendly sideways hug. "This way you won't reach the point of utter exhaustion the next time you save my life."

"You really think we'll be repeating that?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"What, me landing myself in some mess I need help getting out of alive?" I laugh. "Count on it. That's another of my talents."

"I'm not sure whether or not to be glad I know that now," Jowan mutters, sweeping loose locks of hair back toward his ponytail.

"Either way, consider yourself warned."

_A/N: Pazzi=lunatics, cara cuore=dear heart(so says Google). This chapter was really, really fun to write, seeing as it was my first time writing flirty/seductive!Zev. *flexes writing muscles* Yay for trying something new! I wasn't originally going to go into details of what he said to Claire, but it just sort of came. And it was fun, in the 'guilty pleasure' kind of way. =D Probably brought on b/c my new Mahariel is flirting with him way more than any of my previous characters._


	26. The Maker's Own Truth

26. The Maker's Own Truth

The worst thing about second watch is getting a little bit of sleep, but still being just tired enough it's a constant battle to stay awake. Tonight is worse than usual for me. I don't know why. We didn't try to cover extra ground, I fell asleep the second I got in my tent, and I have a sneaking suspicion Zevran pulled one of my tricks and let me sleep a few extra minutes.

All those factors don't keep me from yawning and scrubbing drowsiness out of my eyes. The bushes rustle again and I wonder if it's the raccoon again. The same raccoon has poked its head out three times already, sniffing for food and always scared off when it sees me. But the head that emerges this time is reddish instead of grey and curious rather than cautious. I smile as I realize that a fox is looking for our other nocturnal visitor. It starts to turn away, looking back when I yawn again. It stares at me with a surprisingly familiar expression of blatant curiosity in its golden eyes.

_This is the same fox from outside Lydes._ I blink in surprise, suddenly wide awake as I stare back at the animal with the same amount of curiosity. "Are you _following _us?" I mutter, not expecting a reply. The fox stares at me for a second longer before sniffing the air and almost haughtily vanishing back into the underbrush. _Alright, __**that**__ wasn't the __**slightest**__ bit out of the ordinary._ I know that's the same fox, crazy as that sounds, and puzzling over why it would follow us helps keep me awake until it's Jowan's turn for watch.

**oOo**

Walking past the Western Approach takes some getting used to, I must admit. Up until now, whether in Ferelden or Orlais, we've been surrounded by green, with trees in sight on either side. Now there's a sodding huge desert teasing the horizon on our left. The open space is far and away preferable to the closeness of the Deep Roads, but it makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. Combined with the paranoid suspicion _someone_ is following us, it does a very good of making me jumpy. I'm also still wondering about that fox.

"What's wrong, _amica_?" Zevran interrupts my reverie and startles me in the process.

"Huh? Oh, nothing's wrong, I'm just trying to figure something out." I tuck a wayward lock of hair back behind my ear. "It's actually kind of silly," I admit.

"Nonsense, minx. I have never known you to worry about something without a good cause," he assures me. "Perhaps if you explain, I can help you figure it out?"

"All you have to do is ask," I laugh. "I'll have to back up and explain a little."

"We have a while. Explain away."

So I explain about the fox outside Lydes, and how I saw again last night, a week later, and a hundred or so miles away. "And I _know_ it was the same fox. I'd swear to it."

"How do you know? I believe you, my dear," Zev adds hastily when I start to protest his question. "But if I did not, how would you convince me?"

"The way it look at me, for one thing. It looked...curious, in a 'what-are-you-doing-on-my-turf?' kind of way, both times. And its eyes for another. It had golden eyes. I've never seen a fox with eyes like that before." Even as I speak the words, the memory of something Morrigan said over a year ago tugs at my mind: "_The Chasind have tales of we witches, saying we assume the forms of creatures to watch them from hiding."_

"I wonder..." I shake my head and don't finish the sentence. Why would she care about me, anyway? After she left like she did...that _couldn't _be her.

"You wonder what, minx?" Zev probes cautiously, one eyebrow arched in curiosity.

"I wonder if it was Morrigan," I answer softly.

The eyebrow rises even higher. "Why would it be her?"

I shrug. "I have no idea," I admit. "I just...she was a shapeshifter, and her eyes were golden...but she was so angry at me when she left. I can't think of a single good reason why it _would_ be her, honestly, but I still can't help but wonder."

"I truly do not know what to tell you, minx," Zev replies apologetically.

"It might not be-and probably isn't-her, I just have to wonder, 'cause of the eyes..." I let the sentence trail off and rake my hand through my hair. "Y'know what? I'm not going to worry about it." I tip my head back and watch a hawk soar through the air, so high up it's a miniscule outline against the clouds. "I'll just drive myself insane long before we reach Val Foret."

He chuckles. "And truly_ that _would be a blow to all of Thedas."

"Oh, a most grievous one, to be sure," I agree with a laugh. "Are heroes even allowed to go insane?"

"Only if they want their tale to become a tragedy, I believe, my dear minx."

**oOo**

True to my word, I put all thoughts of the fox and the faint but existent possiblity it was Morrigan out of my mind. It's hard to do; I'm curious by nature, and this is the biggest and most tantalizing puzzle I've come across in quite a while, aside from my wondering what happened to Jowan between escaping the Circle tower and me finding him in Arl Eamon's dungeon. However, I've sworn to myself I will _not_ ask him about it, so this 'fox' puzzle is all I have as far as conundrums. But I manage to not think about it, mostly by trying to work out how to tell the First Warden about the darkspawn still roaming Ferelden. I get so lost in trying to word it right I almost trip over a rock, and actually would have if Jowan didn't grab my arm just as I lose my balance.

"Thanks." I smile sheepishly.

"No problem." He smiles back as he lets go of my arm. "Maybe you should pay just a _little_ more attention?"

"I can't help it," I confess with an even more sheepish grin. "When I'm focused on something I have trouble with the whole 'paying attention' thing. I can't even count how many times it's gotten me in trouble."

"Oh? One more thing to add to that list of chinks in your armor?"

"Yep. Something like that. Remember when I told you about that racist bastard I almost killed before we ran into you?"

"I do indeed." Jowan adjusts the straps of his pack as it starts to shift.

"I ran into him because I was lost in thought. At least this time wouldn't have resulted in anything worse than a twisted ankle."

"Which would have been bad enough with all the walking we have left to do," he points out.

"Ah. True. That would have been bad. So thanks again for averting that minor crisis."

"Like I said, no problem. What were you thinking about this time?"

"When we get to Weisshaupt, I'm going to have to explain to the First Warden what's going on in Ferelden, y'know, how there's still darkspawn. As we know from firsthand experience. How's your arm, by the way?"

"It's fine. You were saying?"

"Oh, I was just trying to figure out how to tell him what's going on. And about my new recruit." I playfully nudge him with my elbow.

"Well, I'd think that part will be easy. They'll probably ask who I am and you just tell them you recruited me. If I were you, I'd be more worried about defending _that_ decision than how to tell him Ferelden still has a darkspawn problem."

"What's there to 'defend'?" I demand, wiggling my fingers for quote marks around the 'defend'. "Recruiting you is one of the few things I've done in my life that I'll never second guess."

"Really?"

"Oh, don't sound so surprised." I lightly punch him in the arm. "You should have _seen_ yourself when we were fighting those darkspawn. I really wish you could have. I mean, aside from the fact you didn't even give a second thought to how sodding dangerous it was-especially since you're not a Grey Warden-you were _amazing_."

"Rahna, stop. You've made your point," Jowan mutters, kicking a pebble hard enough it skitters off the road and bounces a few times before disappearing into the grass.

I look up and can't help but smirk at the color tingeing his face. "No need to be embarrassed by the truth," I point out. "When I say you saved my neck, I'm not exaggerating."

"You didn't do half bad yourself. But getting back on our original line of conversation, is that fight your only reason for recruiting me?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that was my_ reason _so much as I'd say it was what made me think recruiting you would be a good idea. Think about it, Jowan. I hadn't ever seen you fight before than, so I got to see how well you could fight, how good you were at fighting with someone else, which is important. I can't tell you how long it took me and Alistair to figure out how to fight together without nearly killing each other. That was more my fault than his. Rogues are used to going things solo. But anyway, the way you plunged in without any hesitation to help me showed me how willing you'd be to risk everything to help a friend-"

"I don't know if I'd have done that for just anybody, Rahna," Jowan interrupts.

_That_ tangles up the rest of what I was going to say and has me speechless for a minute. "Well, nevertheless, the fact you were willing to do it at all says something. I mean, a mage who isn't a Warden and doesn't have a staff taking on darkspawn to protect a friend isn't something just anyone would do. And even though _you_ were the one who got hurt, you were still worried about me, too. And considering I was the one who just about met the Maker, I guess that was only to be expected," I admit wryly.

"Well, that and the way you were half-favoring your one shoulder."

"Huh?" I shoot him a look that's trying for innocent and confused, but apparently doesn't manage either.

"I noticed you were more careful with your...left shoulder, I think it was, like it had gotten bruised or something." My expression must really be something, because Jowan laughs. "C'mon, Rahna, I'm not blind."

Now it's my turn to blush. "I just didn't want you to worry. It was no big deal. Stopped hurting the next day."

"Liar."

"Fine, the day after the next day. And _that's_ the Maker's own truth," I promise.

"Oh, well, if it's the Maker's own truth, I guess I _have_ to believe you," Jowan teases.

"You sure do. Otherwise you might get struck by lightning."

"Rahna, if I haven't been struck dead for the blood magic and...everything else, d'you really think I'm worried about it happening for not believing you?"

"Hmm...well, no, you probably aren't," I concede, wondering with every fiber of my being what exactly is encompassed in the 'everything else'. "But I am telling the truth."

"I know." He grins. "You stopped shielding it from everything, so I figured it wasn't hurting any more."

I make a mental note to never again underestimate..well, anything.

**oOo**

As we set up camp, I can't help but notice how tense Zevran is. He always has this air of being ready to pull out his swords and slice someone to ribbons at a millisecond's notice, but tonight it seems even more heightened than usual.

"What wrong?" I finally ask when he lets loose a long string of what I'm assuming are Antivan curses upon dropping his whetstone as he sharpens one of his blades.

"Nothing." The lack of an accompanying roguish grin, 'my dear', 'minx', or any other term of endearment only further convinces me that he's lying.

"Zevran." I cross my arms. "I know something's bothering you. What's wrong?" _If he's getting jealous again because of how long I was talking to Jowan earlier, so help me, things will get ugly._

He sighs. "There is no fooling you, is there, minx?"

"Nope." I pick up the whetstone and hand it to him. "So just tell me and save us both a long and aggrevating interrogation."

He shoots me a saucy grin. "That doesn't sound half bad to me."

I roll my eyes and pointedly ignore the innuendo. "Zev."

"Alright, alright, _amica_. Something has been bothering me for a day or so now. The longer I think about it, the more sure I am that my instincts are right on this."

"Zev, just sodding tell me."

He looks over at me, eyes dead serious. "Minx, someone is following us."


	27. A Dangerous Game

27. A Dangerous Game

I take a second to absorb Zevran's statement. I have only one question, at least to start. "Who?"

He shrugs. "I do not know, my dear. All I know is that we are being followed, and they are very good at being near undetectable."

"Then how-"

"I am even _better_ at going undetected. I did not see them, but I saw their tracks. There is only one. A scout, perhaps. As they are following us, they felt no need to cover their trail."

"Ah. I see. When did you figure out they were back there, and do you have any guesses as to who it might be?" I shift to a more comfortable position as a rather large splinter of bark begins an attempt to work through my armor and into my thigh.

"When you were talking to your mage friend-"

"He has a name, Zev," I interrupt, slightly irritated. _That I don't think you've ever used._

"I know that, _amica_," he replies quietly. "While you were talking with him, I purposefully fell behind and investigated, due the overwhelming feeling someone was following us. You felt it as well, did you not?" I nod. "I thought so. And as far as guessing who it is..." He shrugs. "You know guessing is a dangerous game. You begin to make assumptions about your opponent, and then you underestimate them on one critical point, and they kill you. However, if I were to hazard a guess, I would say the Crows."

"What?" I stare at him like he's insane.

"I told you they would find me eventually, minx," he reminds me.

"But it's only been what, a few months? When you said 'eventually', I was thinking more like a year."

Zevran chuckles. "Oh, that would be lucky indeed, my dear minx. They probably knew I had not died with Taliesin in that alley before we reached Hafter's Bend. And that's being generous. However, this is just a guess, remember. It may not be them."

Something occurs to me then. "Would Loghain's contract on the Wardens still be active? If it is them, could they be after me?" The thought makes my stomach twist in knots. _If I put Zev and Jowan in danger..._

"It is possible, yes," Zevran admits, slowly, as if he doesn't want to. "But, again, Rahna, it may not be the Crows."

"But they would make the most sense. Let's face it, we don't exactly look like a soft target for your average gang of bandits," I point out. "You and I are both plainly armed. Bandits usually steer clear of people like us for easier prey. And they don't usually follow people. They set up an ambush. Why shouldn't we assume it _is_ the Crows? Wouldn't they be the most skilled enemies we could face?"

"Yes, minx, they would."

"So what harm is there in being ready to face the best, even if it turns out it _isn't_ the Crows?" I play with my throwing dagger, twirling the blade point lightly against my thumb.

"None." Zevran reaches over and stills the blade, his hand half covering mine. "But we need to be careful, especially if it is them. If they are after me, I do not want anything happening to you."

I snort. "Zev, come on. I've beaten them twice."

"With more help then we currently have, and I will remind you I had a bit of a death wish when you fought me."

"Ah, so you _would _have done better if you were serious about killing me? I was wondering about that."

He shakes his head at my teasing tone. "And there are Crows better at what they do than Taliesin, trust me."

"I do," I reply sincerely. "You know that."

He nods. "I know, _amica_."

**oOo**

I keep my eyes open extra wide on watch and refuse to let myself drift off even the slightest bit. I don't see anything, except a few critters more interested in the apple cores and other food scraps left over from our meal. The uneventful passage of my watch serves only to worry me further. Enough so that when I wake Jowan for his watch-which takes some doing; that man's a deep sleeper-I tell him to be careful, which is unusual enough I catch his raised eyebrow before I crawl into my tent and know I'll be answering some questions tomorrow. _Fine by me._ I curl up under my blanket, snuggle against my pillow, and fall asleep with Zevran's comment about knowing I trust him echoing in my mind.

**oOo**

_"You __**seriously**__ trust him? Are you touched in the head, Rahna?" Alistair crosses his arms and all but glares at me across the short distance between us, the campfire crackling behind him._

_ "Of course I am," I shoot back, confident in my decision and ready to defend it 'til the darkspawn descend on us if need be. "I'm trying to get Grey Warden treaties honored and defeat the Blight with the help of one other Warden, who's only been one six sodding __**months**__ longer than me, an opinionated apostate mage, a qunari who think I, as a woman, shouldn't even be fighting, a mabari hound, and an elderly mage. I'd __**have**__ to be touched in the head to not give this up as hopeless!" I cross my arms and glare right back. "I-__**We**__ need all the help we can get. Zevran is a skilled fighter, and if he gets out of line, well," I shrug. "We already trounced him, and thoroughly, once. We can do it again."_

_ "Rahna, he tried to __**kill**__ you!"_

_ "And he's now sworn an oath of loyalty to me."_

_ "Loghain had sworn loyalty to Cailan."_

_ "Damn it, Alistair, we are talking about __**Zevran**__." I drag one hand through my hair, tangling an already sorry mess even further. "He's __**not **__Loghain." I sigh. "I think you're more upset about his 'deadly sex goddess' comment than the fact he tried to kill us. Worried I'll succumb to his charms?" I'm baiting him, but, Maker help me, I'm tired of fighting._

_ Alistair goes pure scarlet. "I..." He smiles sheepishly. "Is it really that easy for you to see through me?"_

_ I laugh. "It was when you gave me the rose, so why would now be any different, love?"_

_ "Good point. But, Rahna, in all seriousness, be careful how much you trust him. Can you do that for me?" He steps closer and brushes a few stray pieces of hair out of my eye before tipping my chin up to kiss me. _

_ "Well, I suppose I can. If it's for you," I murmur after indulging._

_ "Thank you. And don't think I didn't catch on to what you just did. Very sneaky, miss."_

_ I grin at him and kiss him on the cheek. "I wouldn't be a good rogue if I wasn't. Now, care to go warm up the tent?"_

_ If possible, he blushes an even darker shade of red, but still manages to grin at me. "Your desire is my command."_

_ I smirk right back. "I'll be sure to remember that tonight," I whisper, rubbing my thumb against the sensitive spot under his jaw._

**oOo**

I almost hit Jowan when he wakes me up in the morning.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," I yawn, sitting up and stretching. "You interrupted a good dream."

"Oh, is that why Zevran wanted _me_ to wake you up?"

I chuckle and sweep back my tangled hair. "Probably. Considering I gave him a black eye the first time he made that mistake."

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow. "He doesn't strike me as the type that it would easy to hit."

"I think that's the one and only time I managed to catch him off guard."

"I see." He bites his lip. "Rahna, why'd you tell me to be careful last night?"

I sigh and pull my knees up into my chest. "Zevran thinks someone's following us. We don't know who, but since both of us suspected it, and he noticed tracks behind us yesterday, we're just being careful, that all."

"Is that what the two of you were talking about yesterday?"

"Mm-hm." I muffle another yawn and grin at him. "Now, out, ser mage. I need to get my armor on."

His face colors slightly before he offers a teasing salute and leaves the tent. "Whatever you say. You're the hero, after all."

"Jowan!" I throw my pillow at him.

He catches it with a laugh and tosses it back. "Nice try."

I sigh and roll my eyes as I crawl out of my nest of blankets, but can't help the triumphant grin that curls my lips as I pull on the chestpiece of my armor, remembering a month ago, when I had to wonder if Jowan would _ever_ so much as _smile_. _Guess you got your answer, Rahna_. I chuckle softly as I thump the pillow back against the far end of my tent and reach for the rest of my armor.

**oOo**

"I see our sleeping beauty awakes," Zevran chuckles as I emerge from my tent.

"Considering the circumstances of the last time you called me that, do you really want to go there, Zev?" I laugh, twirling one of the short pigtails I finally managed to pull my hair into, and then tug on its twin to make sure the bits of string are working to hold it back. It's such a relief to finally have my hair out of my face again.

"I suppose you have a point there, my dear," he concedes, still grinning, as he tosses me an apple. "Come, we need to be going."

"Eager to move on?" I tease as I bite into the apple.

"If we are being followed, do you really want to make it easier to find us, minx? That is a dangerous game to play, is it not?"

"Now it's my turn to concede that _you _have a point." I swipe the back of one arm guard across my face as a trickle of juice runs down my chin. "Let's get going."

**oOo**

We pack up camp and head out. The foremost thought in my mind is that of we manage to keep up the same pace we usually do, we should reach Val Foret in time to sleep in _real beds_ tonight. Provided Zevran doesn't get us thrown out again. Anf I think if he does, I may sodding well kill him this time. I'm tired of sleeping on roots and uneven ground and-on occasion-rocks.

"What're you thinking about this time?" Jowan asks, falling in step next to me.

I tell him. "Aside from Levi's, when's the last time _you_ actually slept in a bed?"

"Y'know, I don't even remember," he admits with a wry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. "Redcliffe, maybe? Before I ended up in the dungeon."

I decide not to follow that, badly as I want to. "Mm. For me it was Denerim, just shy of a month before we ran into you in Longreach. And before that...oh, Maker, I can't even remember before that. And now tonight..." I grin in anticipation. "I can't wait."

"Me neither."

"Come on, minx!" Zevran hollers from up ahead. Pretty far ahead. I slowed down more than I thought I had.

"We're coming, we're coming!" I lob the core of my apple at him as we get closer and he dodges easily.

"Come, my dear Warden, surely you can do better than that," he laughs.

We can't get to Val Foret fast enough.

_A/N: Goodness, these three are way too much fun to write. :D_


	28. Good Point

28. Good Point

The first two inns we check in Val Foret are both full. And I mean _full_. Just when I'm trying to decide whether I should scream in frustration over being so close to sleeping in a real bed only to not find a free one or be grateful that we'll be harder to remember with all these people, Zevran finds a slightly more out of the way, slightly less reputable looking tavern that seems to still have a few rooms left.

The Opal's Grasp bears enough similarities to the Pearl in Denerim that I actually hesitate as we cross the threshold. "Zev, is this...?"

"Anything like the Pearl?" He laughs. "No, my dear. It is not. Sad, no?"

"Actually, no. Not at all." I shake my head at him, more than used to his typical comments, as I survey the mostly full tavern. "I don't suppose you happen to know who runs this place?"

"That would be me," the raw-boned woman behind the bar interrupts. "Name's Ruby. What can I do for you?"

"How many rooms you have free?" I ask, desperately hoping she doesn't repeat the words I've heard twice in the last hour.

A grin curves her lips as she eyes the three of us. "Just one. Two beds."

_Well, seeing as we're being followed, we should probably still have someone on watch. So we only really need two beds. Besides, if I have to sleep on the ground tonight, I __**will **__murder someone._ "I'll take it. How much?"

"Fifty silver a night." She smirks. "Each."

Despite knowing her price almost constitutes highway robbery for a place like this, I'm too familiar with the concept of supply and demand to protest. I dig out the coins and slap them down on the counter. "Here. Where's the room?"

She nods toward the staircase at the far end of the room. "Up the stairs, third door on the left."

**oOo**

I want to do nothing more than collapse from exhaustion-armor and all-when we reach the room, which seems surprisingly habitable considering the disreputable appearance of the tavern. However, I can't remember, "Who'd be first watch tonight?"

"Me," Jowan mutters, rubbing the heel of one hand across his face. He's almost as tired as I am.

"I believe we can make an exception tonight, my friend," Zevran interjects, "I'll go first. With someone following us, we need to still to watch, even if we are under a roof for the night."

"S'good of you," I mumble, letting my pack thunk down by the bed nearer the window. "Wake me when it's my turn." Multiple nights dreaming about Alistair have taken their toll. I love those dreams, but for some reason I don't feel as rested after nights when I have them, so I'm desperately praying I don't have one tonight even as sleep claims me. _A real bed... I'm sleeping in a real bed... That's dream come true enough for me..._

**oOo**

Jowan's the one who wakes me for my watch. It doesn't sink in until ten minutes after he's dead to the world that he's supposed to have the watch _after_ mine, not before. _They skipped me._ I chuckle quietly at the realization. Jowan must've told Zev to wake him up rather than me. Had the order been switched, I probably would've done the same thing. I pull my knees up into my chest and play with my hair as the minutes of my watch pass slowly by.

The monotony is interrupted about two hours into my watch, in the form of quiet skritches against the window. The sound yanks me firmly back into reality and out of the memories I was half-indulging. I shift into a crouching position and edge toward the window, loosening my dagger in its sheath and grasping the hilt as I draw nearer. I peer out, heart pounding and eyes probing the dimly lit world. The sun is beginning to tinge the sky with pink and pale gold light, which helps a little.

There's another quiet scrape against the glass as I reach the window. I pull in a sharp breath. _Oh, Maker..._

It's just an owl. A sodding _owl_. I feel all the tension leave me in a rush as I exhale. The owl looks at me through the window, its golden stare accusing, as if it holds me personally responsible for the window ledge being an unsuitable perch before flying away. I collapse back against the wall behind me, hearing my head thump softly against the wood, as the adrenaline floods out of my veins and leaves me trembling for the remainder of my watch.

**oOo**

I don't say a word about the owl incident when I wake the others. Zev's easy, considering that he's probably the lightest sleeper I've ever met. He goes to see about procuring some breakfast from Ruby.

Jowan, however, is a different story. If I thought he was hard to wake up sleeping in a tent, it's twice as hard with him being in a real bed.

"Jowan, time to get up."

No response, no indication he even heard me.

"Jowan." I tug down the blanket and give his shoulder a shake.

"Mmph." Well, a grunt is progress.

"_Jowan._ Wake. Up." I sigh. _Sweet Andraste..._ I shake his shoulder again.

He mutters something unintelligible and doesn't seem to move any closer to being awake.

"Jowan, you need to _get. __**Up**__._" I balance on the edge of the bed on my knees and bounce. _ Maker's breath, he's worse than Soris!_

"Go 'way," he mumbles before burying his head under his pillow.

_Andraste's sodding bloody __**knickers!**_ "Jowan. Up. _**Now.**_" I snatch the pillow and whack him with it. Childish method, perhaps.

But it works. "Alright, alright, I'm up!" He sits up and sweeps his hair back out of his face. "Maker's breath, Rahna."

I can't help but laugh. "Don't look at me like that. It's not _my_ fault waking you up's like trying to wake a sodding _rock_." I toss the pillow at him. He ducks, and it thumps against the wall.

Jowan takes the teasing in stride. "Miri used to say the same thing; that I'm next to impossible to get up. She usually resorted to bouncing on my bed and repeating my name over and over and over until I got annoyed enough I threw my pillow at her."

That elicits a chuckle from me. "I'll have to remember that." I toss him his shirt. "Here. Zev went to see about getting some food, and I want to leave after we eat."

"What's your hurry?" he teases as he pulls the shirt over his head.

I shrug. "If Zev's right about someone following us, I'd rather stay in one place for a short a time as possible, wouldn't you?"

He nods. "Good point. I guess I have to give you that one." He gathers his hair back into a ponytail and then mutters under his breath when he glances at the table by the bed. "Rahna, I think the string fell under the bed or something. Little help?"

I bite back a smile at his sheepish expression as I kneel to look under the bed. "Ah. Here it is." I snatch up the frayed length of string and push back up to my feet. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He ties back his hair, flicking at the still-too-short strands falling in his eyes.

"No problem. And thank _you_ for taking my watch."

"Oh, you're welcome." He shrugs as he reaches for his boots. "You were just so exhausted, and I know second watch is harder when you're already tired."

"Whatever your reason, I appreciate it." I dig in one of the pockets of my pack and pull out the twin strings I use for my pigtails, holding them in between my teeth as I pull rebellious golden brown strands out of my face and separate the two pigtails. "I wonder what's taking Zev so long," I mutter as I knot the second of the strings firmly in place and sit next to Jowan to fix one of my boots.

"Knowing him, do you really want to know?" Jowan asks with a wry smile.

"Mm. Good point." I chuckle. "Still, it shouldn't take this long to get food. I doubt Ruby drives _that_ hard of a bargain."

"And you would be right, minx," Zevran interrupts, shouldering the door open enough for him to enter. "I took the opportunity to collect some information as well as food. Speaking of which, Ruby claims her cook makes these better than anyone else alive." He sets a basket on the table and sits on the other bed facing us.

"Are those what I think they are?" I lean forward and snatch one of the still-warm rolls. A wave of ecstasy sweeps through me with the first bite. "_Mmm_. Oh, _Maker... _Yes, they are." I roll my eyes at the looks I'm getting. "I have a weakness for sweet rolls," I defend. "And we almost _never_ got them in the Alienage. And, well, they don't keep that well, so they continued to be a rare treat while I was fighting the Blight."

"Is that why you were so reluctant to leave Redcliffe, minx?" Zevran chuckles.

I nod sheepishly. "Eamon's cook made the best ones I'd ever tasted. Well, until now. These are even better." I shoot a sideways glance at Jowan, who's furiously biting his lip, but I can see the laughter in his eyes, so it's wasted effort. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, half smile twisting his lips. "You just reminded me of Miri for a second. She has a near fanatical love of all things sweet. In fact, she actually talked me into helping her sneak into Irving's office once because someone told her he had chocolate hidden in his desk."

"Why am I sensing this didn't end well?" I ask, taking another bite of the heavenly sweet roll.

"Because it didn't. Nine year old, naturally exuberant elves are _not_ good at being sneaky. And, well, there's templars _everywhere_ in the tower."

I raise an eyebrow. "Big trouble, huh?"

He nods, smiling sheepishly. "Most I'd ever been in in my life, considering Greagoir's the one who caught us."

"Oh." Both eyebrows go up this time. "I can imagine. Let me guess, long lecture from him, long lecture from Irving, some privilege taken away for what seemed an interminable amount of time?"

"Add in a _lot_ of extra work in all our classes for the next two months. Which was even harder since the privilege they took away was sweets, which made Miri _very_ cranky. Those two months were the longest of my life. And when we had our first fight. She'd been there four years, and we never fought over anything. Until Greagoir deprived her of her sweets."

I can't help but giggle picturing that. "Well, I've heard sweet stuff can be addictive. Maybe she was suffering sugar withdraw," I offer.

He shrugs. "Whatever it was, when you combined it with her unholy love of ice spells, it made things just a tad dicey."

"There's nothing quite as scary as a woman deprived of her favorite food. I decapitated more than one darkspawn for dragging me away from Redcliffe after I knew the cook made sweet rolls."

"Minx?" Zevran interrupts.

"What, Zev?"

"If you wish to enjoy them while they are still warm, I would suggest you focus more on eating."

"Mm. Good point." It takes all my willpower to not attempt to eat the remaining half a roll in my hand in one bite. I pass one to Jowan. "I'll even be nice and share for once."

Zevran raises an eyebrow as he palms one for himself. "You wouldn't even share with Alistair when we were at Redcliffe, _amica_."

"Jowan took my watch." I shrug. "Besides, I knew the cook could make Alistair his own and it wouldn't cost anything 'cause Eamon owed me. Speaking of which, how much did those cost?"

He shrugs and grins at me. "Nothing. Ruby's cook is a gorgeous woman. And very easily flattered."

"You never change, do you?" I laugh.

"Minx, do you honestly want me to?" he points out with a chuckle.

"Another good point," I sigh. "It would probably scare me if you changed now, actually."

**oOo**

We finish eating-and I even manage to share a couple more sweet rolls, gather our gear, and return the room key to Ruby before we hit the road. I have to admit, _not_ being sore and exhausted makes all the difference in the world when you know there's a week's worth of walking between you and the next chance at a real bed. I'm sure there are small villages between here and Montefort, but I think we should avoid them, since we're being followed. I wish whoever it is would either give up or catch up, and the unnaturally curious part of me is almost hoping for the second of the two.

**oOo**

"Did you see them?"

She nodded. "I've been following them for weeks. Of course I saw them."

"_Both_ of them?" The demand was impatient.

Another nod. "Yes, _boss_, I saw both Arainai and the Warden."

"The other one is still with them?" It was a statement more than a question, despite the tone.

"Yes. He doesn't look like he'll be too much trouble, though. He's not even wearing armor. The Warden will be the biggest problem. You know what she's capable of. You have a plan yet?"

"When do I not? Keep following them. They will be leaving the Imperial Highway just after Ghislain, if they _are_ heading for Weisshaupt. The Fields of Ghislain are not known for their hospitality." There was a quietly malicious grin in the words. "Now, back to your task, Celi."

"Of course."

A few seconds later, a hawk's cry was the only sign of life anywhere near the abandoned house, as the golden-eyed bird soared north toward Montefort.

_A/N: *dies of satisfaction* Sorry, there's absolute oodles that I just love love **love** about this chapter. Rahna waking Jowan up(*squeeee*), the sweet rolls thing(*grin*), and the little end bit between two of the...people following them(really happy with how not-forced and un-cheesy it sounds). No, I'm not telling any more. You'll just have to wait until next Tuesday for that. Only hint: chapter 29 is going to be tougher for me to write but oh, so much fun(when is this story not?) at the same time. :D So, enjoy, and I'll be back with more next Tuesday! :D_


	29. As the Crow Flies

29. As the Crow Flies

We spend two nights in Montefort. That's my fault, mostly. The beds at the inn are _the_ most comfortable thing I've slept on in my entire life, and I want to enjoy them a little longer. Even the beds at the palace in Denerim weren't this soft. I'm beginning to see where Orlesians get their reputation for luxury. I allow a sad smile as we leave, Alistair's voice echoing in my head: _"We could go to Orlais, live in sin, and eat cake until the darkspawn catch up to us."_

We spend a day planning our route. The fastest way to Weisshaupt means leaving the highway just past Ghislain and cutting cross-country "as the crow flies", as Zevran puts it. He traces the best route on a worn out map produced from his pack to give me a visual. He knows how horrible I am with geography. Fortunately, I didn't take him with me into the Brecilian Forest. He would never have let me live down getting lost-twice. I don't want to repeat that crossing the Fields of Ghislain. Especially considering there's only one major town, Perendale, between Ghislain and Weisshaupt, at least along our route. But after Zev drilling it into my head, I think I'll manage to not get lost.

**oOo**

It takes three days to reach Ghislain at our less-than-hurried pace. We have yet to see any sign of the people following us, which is making both Zev and me incredibly tense. He jokingly offers me a massage the second night out of Montefort and I just as jokingly inform him that if he tries it, he'll lose a hand. At least.

"My dear minx, you wound me." He affects an expression of wounded pride, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

"That statement will become literal if you try anything, Arainai." I grin at him. "You can't fool me. I've known you too long."

"Ah, sad." He shakes his head in mock disappoinment. "Very well. I shall simply dream of Claire until it is my watch."

I shake my head as he disappears into his tent. "He never changes."

"Like he said before, would you want him to?" Jowan asks.

"No. Now get to sleep. The easier it is to wake you for your watch, the happier I'll be."

"Far be it from me to make you unhappy, m'lady," Jowan teases as he heads for his tent. The only reason I don't throw something at him is the lack of anything softer than a rock near at hand.

**oOo**

There are times things happen with such perfect, ironic timing they make you question the Chantry's claim that the Maker has abandon all involvement in human affairs. There are times events snynchronize so seamlessly with thoughts, spoken or unspoken, you have no choice but to think they can't possibly be mere coincidence.

Getting chased by those two men because Zev couldn't keep his hands to himself, only to run into Jowan and gain another friend was one of the former. Two days past Ghislain-and not lost yet, a fact that makes me far more proud than it should-I have the latter kind.

The sky has darkened to a deep shade of grey, fast on its way to being night. Of course, the looming storm clouds that have glowered at us all day are helping it along a little. Not having seen any sign of whoever it is following us, I mutter to Zevran that I wonder if they're still even there.

A crossbow bolt buries half its length in the log next to me less then a heartbeat after the words leave my mouth.

Zevran shoots me a look. "You were saying, minx?" All three of us drop to the ground as a second bolt hums past angrily a few seconds later.

"I take it back," I grumble. "Any educated guesses as to who it is?"

"If I were to guess, at this point I would say you were right about the Crows, _amica_."

"For once I wish I'd been wrong," I mutter.

"As do I," he replies, yanking a throwing knife freee of his belt. Gripping the tip, he flings it towards where the crossbow-wielder should be. There's a cry of pain and the sound of a body-living or dead I can't tell-falling to the ground. Zevran smirks in satisfaction.

"Impressive, Zevran, my friend. I was beginning to fear you had lost your touch," a mocking voice calls from somewhere out there. "Traveling with the Warden has made you soft."

Zevran mutters a vehement curse in Antivan, frustration rampant in his eyes. "Badly as you may wish to be wrong, my dear Warden, you were right. It is the Crows."

"Well, who do you think they're after?" I whisper. "Me or you?" I'm not used to seeing his emotions so clearly, and it shocks me that they're showing now. He's usually at his most controlled when danger threatens.

"It does not matter, _amica_. Either way they want both of us. Guilt by association, you see."

"Ah." That makes sense. Whether they're hunting for me because of Loghain's sodding contract or Zev for botching said contract and joining me, we're both marked.

And I dragged Jowan into it. I could kill myself for that.

"What are you two _talking_ about?" Jowan demands in an undertone.

"I'll explain when there aren't people trying to kill us," I promise. "Suffice it to say the Crows want both of us dead for different reasons."

"The _Crows_?"

"Long story. Like I said, I'll explain later." An arrow slams into the log, less than three inches from my head. "_Sod._ Zev, how many do you think there are?"

"No fewer than five, surely," the assassin replies, "Not when they are targeting a Grey Warden and one of their own." He flinches as another arrow hisses out of the surrounding near-darkness and flies over his shoulder. "We are in a bad spot."

"You're telling me!" I retort, "Sodding fire gives them a _huge_ advantage."

"Well, what do you suggest, my dear, hm?" Zevran hisses back testily. "We have no way of putting it out near at hand."

"Yes, we do, actually," I shoot back.

Almost as if he read my mind, Jowan mutters under his breath and the bluish-white magic of an ice spell envelops the wood, instantly turning to water and extinguishing the fire with a sizzle.

The dim looks a lot like dark with our eyes so used to the light, but at least the Crows no longer have _that_ particular advantage over us.

"Excellent, Arainai! Now you need only to find us!" the Voice taunts.

I sense Zevran tense. "Ronin." The whisper is followed by a string of quiet but angry Antivan directed nowhere in particular. I feel worry tickle the base of my spine. Zev's never lost his cool so thoroughly, and to be honest, it's kind of scary.

"Zev." I touch his arm. "We need a plan."

"Whatever it is, Ronin is mine," Zevran hisses in reply.

"Why-?"

"You killed Vaughan, yes? And Howe?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Then I get to kill Ronin."

"I'll do my best to leave him for you, then. But in the meantime, we need a plan, Zev."

Best we can under the circumstances, arrows still hissing by, knowing the Crows will probably move in now that the fire-and their advantage-is gone, we come up with a plan. Split up, be sneaky, and don't get killed. Rudimentary, yes, but all things considered, it's a decent enough plan.

I bump against something as I creep away, toward the general direction of Ronin's voice. It shifts, scrapes, and starts to fall and I instinctively grab for it. My hand closes blindly around smooth wood, and I realize what I'm holding. Jowan's staff. While I know from experience he can handle himself without it, I think the Crows are going to give us a bit more trouble than a few darkspawn. And him collapsing from exhaustion before all of them are dead would be _really_ bad. "Jowan!"

"Over here!" His answering shout comes in perfect tandem with a rush of flame and cries of pain and surprise from a couple Crows.

I whirl in his direction, smirking a bit as I realize the Crows weren't expecting him to actually be _dangerous_. "Catch!" I toss the staff in his direction.

He's close enough I hear the slap of wood against skin as he catches it. I also hear his breath catch before he hollers, "Rahna, _duck_!"

I instinctively obey, dropping to my knees as a stonefist sails over my head and crashes into the elf trying to sneak up behind me. I twist out of the way as another Crow tries to take advantage of my awkward position and rake Topsider's Honor hard against the back of the woman's knees. She goes down as I scramble up. I finish her with a sweep of one sword.

A gurgle sounds nearby as Zevran dispatches another one, the man collapsing to his knees before falling on his face. "Minx, are you alright?"

"Just fine," I call back, wincing as an arrow grazes my arm in the moment of distraction. "Sod it _**all**_! Jowan, see if you can do anything about those damn archers!" The near-darkness is not helping, though I know our eyes have adjusted enough the Crows can no longer claim an advantage on that score. Still, it's too dark to be fighting. "Oh, this should be fun," I mutter with sardonic glee, catching sight of a pair of Crows sneaking between trees. I head for the two men, swords clutched in a death grip.

One of them goes down easily as I have my turn with the element of surprise. His friend, however, is a bit harder. Still, all it takes is one swing that goes a little too wide, and I ram my sword through his leather armor, yanking it free and moving on toward the next one before his body has fallen to the ground.

From the amount of skill exhibited by the elf I all but run into, I'm guessing I found Ronin. As I lock blades with him, the heavens open and the storm that's been threatening all day finally makes good on its promise. _Sodding __**perfect**__!_ "You're joking, _tell_ me you're joking!" I groan, skidding on the instantly muddy ground as Ronin bulls forward. He's more aggresive than your average rogue. "_**ZEV**_!" My leg twists under me as I fall. Which turns out to be a good thing, as Ronin's swords arc through where my head was a second earlier. _Blessed Andraste..._ I sweep my foot against the back of his legs, tumbling him into the mud next to me, and spit out a mouthful of rainwater. I'm vaguely aware of harsh cries of pain as Zev and Jowan dispatch more of the Crows, one coming from a decent enough distance I'm guessing it was an archer. Hopefully the last one.

"Ah, Warden, I see why Zevran has followed you," Ronin baits in a thick Antivan accent as we both struggle back to our feet. I have a newfound hatred for mud now. "You are as deadly as you are beautiful, the two qualities he finds most attractive in his women."

I furiously shove sopping tendrils of hair out of my face and spit mud at him. "Shut up and sodding die," I growl as we circle warily.

"This I cannot do. There is too much to gain by killing the two of you. The purse for killing the last Fereldan Warden, and the honor of killing a traitorous fellow Crow."

Mentioning that I'm the last Fereldan Warden was a bad move on his part. I slide to the side as he lunges forward and sweep one sword in an arc that I feel gouge into his arm. He snarls and whirls around, slashing at my face. _Zev, I know you said you wanted to kill him, but if you don't wise up and get your arse over here soon, I'm gonna have to do it._ Ronin's dagger nicks my face, opening a wound that cuts my scar in half. I hiss at the pain and punch him in the temple.

He staggers backwards from the blow, right into the huge, crackling bolt of lightning flying in his direction from Jowan's staff. I can tell from the size of it, Jowan put enough power behind the attack to take down four or five hurlocks, so one sodding elven rogue doesn't stand a chance. Ronin's matching sword and dagger slip from convulsing, twitching hands that can no longer hold them and land in the mud with a small splash. The assassin's still-shuddering corpse isn't far behind. I approach Ronin's body with a fair level of caution and ram one sword through his skull, just to be safe, before I turn to Jowan.

"Thanks," I mutter, gasping for breath. _For saving my neck **again**_. It's hard to fight when you're struggling for your balance at the same time. Even the duelist tricks Isabela taught me only help so much.

"Don't mention it. You alright?"

"Sure am." I know that's not all of them; it can't be. "Let's get back to it, shall we?"

He nods. "Good idea."

Something flickers in the woods, catching my eye, even through the darkness and rain. "Jowan, did you see-"

The paralysis spell catches both of us off-guard.

"Hello, Rahna," the mage smirks as she steps out from the trees, golden brown eyes laughing at me. "Oh, pardon my manners. You probably don't recognize me." She holds up her hands, mutters something that sounds vaguely familiar, and shifts before my eyes from a human into a fox. A golden-eyed fox. She looks up at me and, still smirking, cocks her head. "Is this better?"

_A/N: *Even more dead of satisfaction than last chapter* Maker, that was fun to write! Yes, I am beyond evil. I know, I know. *maniacal laughter* I really, really wanted to get the whole fight in one chapter, but it just wouldn't fit. And this was too awesome a spot to stop. I couldn't resist. I have learn the cliffhanger lesson well(thank you page and 'nista...)At least now you know who was following them, and that's something, right? Right? *flees for her life* _


	30. I Owe You One

30. I Owe You One

_I knew it! I __**knew**__ that fox was following us!_ I glare at the fox until she shifts back into a human. _I wouldn't be surprised if she was the owl in Val Foret._ I hate being so helpless. _Sod it, Zev, where are you?_ I'm hoping wherever he is, it's close enough for him to do something before it's too late.

The mage laughs. "Oh, don't look so angry. You had to know the contract would not expire simply because the men who authorized it did. Though I must confess picking up your trail to begin with was completely accidental. Your little stop in Lydes?"

_Maker, I swear, as soon as this spell wears off, I'm going to sodding __**gut**__ her._

Almost as if she read my mind, the mage shakes her head. "But I've wasted enough time." Her gaze flickers to Jowan as she begins summoning a spell. "Shame you dragged someone else into it. Even if he was more trouble than we expected." I recognize the red magic building around her hands, thanks to the Curse of Mortality being one of Morrigan's favorite spells. But this looks like a stronger version, maybe one that could be cast on more than one person, last longer, and do more damage. None of which is good.

_Zev! Sometime today might be nice!_ I can feel the paralysis weakening, but not fast enough.

A throwing dagger whistles out of the same clump of trees the mage had used for cover and slices into the side of her wrist, throwing off her concentration and disrupting the spell. Zevran charges at her, ramming his shoulder into her stomach and bowling her over just as the paralysis runs out.

I lunge forward, tightening my grasp on my swords as the mage goes down with a shriek of rage. I think I hear words in the cry, but I don't know for sure until Jowan groans in frustration as a purplish-blue glyph materializes under his feet. I risk a glance back over my shoulder and he gestures helplessly. Neutralization glyph means no mana, which means this mage is all mine and Zev's.

Make that all Zev's. As the mage staggers to her feet, he drives both swords into her back and she crumbles to the ground again with a quiet, startled gasp. Even as she falls, the bushes rustle and one last Crow appears, almost out of thin air.

My fervent prayer that Jowan finished off all the archers was apparently in vain, as the woman nocks an arrow and looses it in our direction with the speed and ease you only gain through long experience.

I twist out of the way of her wild shot as Zevran wheels, charges her, and raps the hilt of one sword against her temple. She collapses in a stunned heap.

I'm vaguely aware of Jowan asking what he plans to do with her-_I_ know an Antivan-style interrogation is soon to come-but something else claims precedence for me as the adrenaline fades.

Pain. Shooting through my chest, demanding attention, _**now**_. I look down at the origin point, brush my fingertips against the broken, jagged end of the half an arrow embedded in my side, just below my ribcage. _How long has that been there? I know __**she **__missed me._ I've never gotten hit so squarely on before-Alistair made sure of that-so I have to admit this is a new experience.

"Bastards ruined my armor," I mumble, the world going fuzzy as my hand comes away slick with more than just rain. And _red_. I blink at it. "Zev..."

Zevran looks over at me and something in his eyes turns to granite. He wheels on the woman he _was_ planning to question and slashes his dagger against her throat. It's the last thing I see before everything blurs into black.

**oOo**

_"Tell me something, my love: are these death-defying stunts going to become a habit of yours?" Alistair pulls me close as he asks, only half joking. "Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I don't worry."_

_ "Very sorry, ser Templar," I grin, snuggling closer. "I'll try to get better at not almost dying."_

_ "At the very least, love, make sure the 'almost' stays on there, yes? I miss you, but not __**that**__ much," he murmurs into my hair. "No dying just yet."_

_ He starts to fade; my hand sinking right through him when I try to trace the scars on his chest. "No, not yet! This was too short!"_

_ "Rahna, they're worried sick about you," Alistair informs me gently. "Both of them." His fading image grins. "Good luck getting Zevran to admit it, however."_

_ I laugh, which ends in a half-sob. "I still love you."_

_ "I know. And I love you. Always," he promises, kissing my forehead just before he fades away completely._

**oOo**

"See if you can get the fire going again," Zevran ordered, spitting strands of wet blond hair out of his mouth as he gently laid Rahna down and started working what was left of the arrow out of her side.

Jowan cast a dubious glance at the soaked wood. "How, exactly?"

"I do not know," Zevran replied shortly, "Nor do I care. But we need it going. For her sake."

After a few attempts to light it through conventional means, Jowan glared at the wood, growled "Sod it" under his breath, and blasted it with a fireball.

"Excellent, my friend," Zevran chuckled, dodging the shower of sparks that flew in his direction. "Now, are you any good as a healer?"

The mage shrugged. "Minimally."

"Minimally is still something. I got the arrow out-" the elf dexterously spun the broken shaft between his fingers, "- and her armor off, but the wound still needs healing."

**oOo**

Jowan swallowed hard. The fight had left him beyond exhausted, and he had next to no mana, thanks to that glyph. If there was one thing Rahna never bought on the resupplying forays along the way-whether just because she didn't think of it, or because buying it may have aroused suspicion-it was lyrium potions. _Whatever the reason, Rahna, we need to risk it next time._ He'd had a couple small vials, but the fight with the darkspawn back near West Hill had necessitated the use of those.

Now, between exhaustion, lack of mana, and adrenaline letdown, his hands wouldn't stop shaking, but still, "I'll try." _It's for Rahna, after all,_ he reminded himself as he rested one hand lightly against the wound, his eyes sliding closed as he concentrated. And not just on healing Rahna.

The second his hand touched her side, he _felt_ it. All mages are drawn to lyrium, but some are also drawn to other things, other sources of power. The chief one for a blood mage-even a _former_ blood mage-was, of course, blood. And Rahna's practically _sang_ to him.

_ No. I'm __**done**__ with that. I __**will not**__ give in. I won't take it, especially from __**her**_, he told the Voice buzzing in his mind, the Voice that told him just a _little _wouldn't be so bad; she'd never even miss it. Never know what he'd done. _But __**I**__ would know. And I would __**never**__, ever, betray her trust like that._

A thin trail of her blood slid over his shaking fingers as he waged his internal battle, calling to him, _begging _him to _**just do it. **__And you __**need **__it right now, worse than you ever have._

Jowan shook his head. "No," he whispered. "_**No**_." He turned all his attention to healing the arrow wound, feeling her skin knit back together under his hand. Which presented its own set of problems. Namely, the warmth of her skin seeping through the thin, soaked material of her shirt and the tingling it sent creeping up his arm. He knew enough about healing to know _that_ was not normal.

Before he had a chance to wonder about this new development, however, Rahna's eyes snapped open, wide and bright and disoriented and just a little sad_._ Her muscles tensed as she tried to sit up. "Don't." He pushed her back down with his free hand, sighing with relief. "I'm not done yet."

She propped herself up on one elbow and blinked at him. "Where's Zev?"

"Over there." Jowan nodded in the direction of the fire. "He's fine, I'm fine, and if you hold still, _you'll_ be fine."

She sighed and mock-glared at him. "Yes, ser."

**oOo**

_Now I really do owe him at least one_. I smirk at the thought. Jowan admitted himself the darkspawn fight made us even, so now I owe him at least one, but I think two.

"What?" he asks suspiciously.

"I was just thinking; now I owe you one. At least."

"Are you sure?"

"Maker's breath," I huff in exasperation. "Jowan, you're the one who told me we were even after the darkspawn fight, so I at least owe you one for Ronin, and I have a feeling this makes two, 'cause I know you don't owe me any this time." I grin at him as he tries to come up with a valid protest. "Jowan, just give up and accept that I owe you one. Nothing wrong with that." I shove myself up into a sitting position after he finishes healing my side.

"Hold still, Rahna. I need to heal the cut on your face," he reminds me, deftly changing the subject even as he gently cups the side of my face in one hand and runs his thumb over the gash. I wince slightly at his touch against the tender injury, but the healing magic does its work well and fast, and it's mere seconds before the throbbing bite of pain has lessened. "There you go. I wish I could do something about the other one."

I shrug. "It's been there for almost four months now, Jowan. I'm used to it. I think it makes me look more dangerous, and to be honest, I kind of like having it."

"You're weird," he teases as he pulls his hand back.

"So people keep telling me. But I figure, I helped save Ferelden, they can put up with a few character quirks." I grin and try not to dwell on my other reason for not minding the scar: it's a relentless reminder of the day _Alistair-_not me-saved Ferelden.

"Helped?" Jowan raises an eyebrow at me. "From what I heard, you did most of the work."

"Alistair did the important part," I retort.

"And what was that, exactly?"

Maker help me, I just don't feel like talking about that right now. "I'll explain later. That's not somewhere I want to go right now. Suffice to say, he's the one who saved Ferelden, not just me."

"Sounds like I'm not the the only one with a tendency to downplay my skills," he teases gently.

I roll my eyes. "Well, no comment on that score." I try to stand, but don't get more then halfway up before my head starts spinning.

"Rahna, sit down." Jowan doesn't really give me any choice in the matter; just grabs my arm and tugs me back down. "You need to go slow. I'm not _that_ good at healing. Wynne's better, and Verra, and An-"

"Jowan," I cut him off, eyes blazing with all the ferocity I can muster, which isn't much at the moment-_damn blood loss-_as I fold my legs under me, "the next time you qualify one of your talents or skills with _anything_ along the lines of 'so-and-so is better at thus-and-such', I swear I will bop you on the head. And _not_ gently. I didn't recruit you because you're the best at healing, or primal magic, or whatever. And that sure as _anything_ isn't my reason for being your friend. I recruited you because I think you'll make an amazing Warden, and I'm your friend because you're already an amazing person."

He flushes bright red. "But-"

"I'm not finished yet. Be quiet and let me talk. Not every Grey Warden is recruited because they're the absolute best at what they do." A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips. "Not so long ago, there was an almost-templar recruited by the same man who recruited me. Duncan found him at a tournament held in honor of the Grey Wardens. He wasn't the most skilled fighter there; several warriors defeated him. But Duncan still chose him over the victors. Duncan picked _Alistair_, the not-exactly-devout bastard son of King Maric. You know why? Because, as far as Duncan was concerned, what's in here-" I lightly thump my fist against Jowan's chest, "-is just as important as your skill with a sword. Or a dagger, mace, or axe. Or magic." I rest my hand on his knee to brace myself as I lean forward to whisper, "I happen to agree with him." I sit back. "So, you need to come to terms with two things. First, you don't have to be the best at _anything_. And second," I grin impishly, "I really do owe you one."

"I cannot speak to the second of those," Zevran interrupts as he joins us, "but she is right about the first, Jowan, my friend. Even if you are not the best at any one thing in particular, you are still quite capable of handling yourself in a fight. The Crows certainly weren't expecting so much trouble from you," he smirks.

Jowan shrugs. "I guess I'm more dangerous than I look."

"I'll say," I laugh.

_A/N: Wow...thirty chapters...how on earth did __**that**__ happen? This wasn't ever even supposed to hit double digits for chapter count. I feel like this is a good point to thank everybody who has stuck around to read the whole thing(And we ain't done! Jowan's not a Warden yet!). And comments about the story... Tee Hee... I love writing these three, really. Probably more than anything else I've ever written(except maybe Abomination). For anyone who's unsure/curious, yes, the mage was Celi from the end of chapter 28. Darn those shapeshifting-mage types! And now that the Crows are dealt with, on to Weisshaupt with all haste! _


	31. Balance

31. Balance

"Don't think I didn't notice," I inform Zev the next day as we continue our trek toward Weisshaupt, albeit at a slightly slower pace.

"Notice what, my dear?" he replies, an expression of perfect confusion in place.

"Notice that you actually used Jowan's name last night."

"So I did, _amica_. And what of it? No need to to get excited. Though I must say you are particularly lovely when you _are_ excited."

I sock him playfully in the arm. "Are you gonna tell me why?"

"Why you are most lovely when excited?"

"_No_, Zev, why you finally used Jowan's name last night."

He shrugs. "I do not know, Rahna."

"Yes, you do," I contradict. "Are you finally okay with having him along? I know you weren't exactly happy-and rather jealous-at first."

"Aside from healing you despite the fact I could see his hands shaking from exhaustion, he more than proved he can handle himself in a fight," Zevran chuckles. "Why would I not be alright with having him along?"

I shake my head and sigh. "Never mind. I give up."

"That is very unlike you, minx," Zev ribs. "Are you certain you are alright?"

I roll my eyes. "You are absolutely _exasperating_. You know that, right?"

He laughs. "I've been told it is part of my charm."

"Whoever said that was lying."

**oOo**

"So, it's later, and no one's trying to kill us," Jowan hints, sitting down next to me as I watch Zevran poke the camp fire to keep it going hot enough to warm up our dinner.

"And I promised you an explanation," I finish for him. "About why the Crows were trying to kill me."

"And Zevran."

"Oh, the reason for _that_ is simple enough," I laugh. "But let me explain in order. After Ostagar, Loghain somehow learned Alistair and I managed to survive what was supposed to be the eradication of the Grey Wardens, so he and Arl Howe took out a contract on us with the Crows. The first one to try was Zevran, actually." I still have to smile at the irony of things. "I met one of my best friends in the entire world because he tried to kill me. After we-quite handily-thrashed his whole group, he asked to travel with me, and since I knew we rather desperately needed all the help we could get, I said yes. Alistair was less than thrilled. I think he was afraid Zev was going to stab me in the back after gaining my trust, or betray us later, or something. But he didn't. Another Crow, Taliesen, came after me and tried to convince Zev to come back to the Crows, after killing me and Alistair, of course. He said no. No hesitation or anything. Regret he had to kill an old friend, sure. But he didn't hesitate in the slightest." I smirk. "After the fight, I wanted to holler 'I told you so' at the top of my lungs."

"That does seem like something you would do," Jowan mutters under his breath.

"I heard that." I elbow him in the ribs. "I couldn't help it. Everyone had been looking at me like I was insane for trusting an assassin who tried to kill me. I know even the ones that weren't as vocal as Alistair thought I had completely lost my mind. And he had just proven me right. He warned me later that the Crows would eventually figure out he hadn't died with Taliesen and come after him again. That mage said they picked up our trail in Lydes." I shrug. "I don't know whether they saw Zev or me or both of us, but that's when they started following us."

"Why'd they wait so long to try something?"

"Because they're incredibly patient and knew if we were heading for Weisshaupt-and don't ask me how they knew or guessed _that_-we would have to leave the road, which would mean less chance of outside interference." I grin. "Like Zev said, I don't think they were expecting any kind of trouble from you, either. Guess that's because you don't _look_ like a mage right now. Even your staff doesn't look like a mage's staff."

"Mm. Good point."

**oOo**

Zevran is incredibly quiet the rest of the evening. Just before I take first watch -it _is_ my turn tonight, even if I'm still healing-I sit next to him.

"Something wrong?"

He shakes his head. "No, minx. I was just... thinking about some things."

"Like what? Or would you rather not say? I know I'm too curious sometimes."

He smile. "It is alright, _amica_. I was merely thinking that perhaps, rather than wait for the Crows to find us-_**me**_-again, I should take the fight to them, as it were."

I blink at him. "What? You want to go back to Antiva and take on the Crows _by yourself_? Zev, are you insane?" _Ah, the irony of finally getting to ask that question rather than answer it._

He shrugs. "Perhaps I am. There are times I feel, however, that I am the sane one balancing out your crazy schemes. But I cannot help but feel this is something I must do. They almost killed you, Rahna," he reminds me softly-as if I could forget. "If it wasn't for your mage friend-"

I clear my throat rather pointedly.

He rolls his eyes. "-_Jowan_, being able to heal you, you would be dead."

"I know, Zev. But risking life and limb is part of the job description for Grey Wardens, and besides, the Crows were after me, too. It wasn't just you." I sigh when I see the determination in his eyes. He won't be changing his mind. "Sod it, I know that bloody look. Can you do me one favor?"

"You have only to name it, _cara amica_."

"Stay with us until we get to Weisshaupt? It's only another two weeks, and they probably won't let you in anyway, since you're neither Warden nor recruit."

He nods. "Of course. That is a most sound plan. Strength in numbers, yes?"

"Exactly. I wish I could come help you, but-"

"The darkspawn need to be your priority, minx," he interrupts. "I understand."

"Thank you." I rest my hand on his arm for a moment before pushing to my feet. "You should get some sleep. Or at least try to."

He nods. "Of course, my dear."

**oOo**

I wasn't planning on stopping in Perendale; we have enough supplies to make it all the way to Weisshaupt and still give Zev something to get him started for the trek to Antiva, but Jowan points out-almost reluctantly-that we should probably have _some_ lyrium potions, just to be safe.

"If it wasn't for the enchantment on my staff, I would even have been able to help you, because that mage's glyph just completely drained me," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. I can't tell if he's embarrassed about that or just doesn't want to be an inconvenience, both of which are silly. It's my fault for forgetting to factor in the need for lyrium when he joined me and Zev. I gave all my leftover potions to Wynne before we left Denerim, and I'm the one who didn't think to buy more in Lydes, or Val Firmin, or anywhere else along the way.

"Oh, Maker, now I feel like an idiot," I mutter, before acquiescing to the first thing he's actually _asked for_ since joining us. "We can see if they have a store that sells them in Perendale. We have to walk right through there anyway, and I'd rather not risk running into any more trouble without some, just in case."

"Thanks." He half-smiles. "I'd just hate to not be able to help if-Maker forbid-something like that happens again."

I shift my pack as the edge digs into my shoulder. "Speaking of that, Zev told me how worn out you were when you healed me."

Jowan bites his lip and _almost_ blushes. "Did he?"

"He said he could see your hands shaking from exhaustion, Jowan," I inform him dryly. "I'm grateful you helped me, really I am, but don't push yourself too far for my sake. You're just as important."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not, Rahna. You saved-or_ helped _save, if I listen to you-an entire nation, maybe even all of Thedas. That makes you just a little more important than most people. Including me."

I shrug. I guess I do have to give him that. "Well, okay, in the grand scheme of things, I guess you're right. _But_, as far as I'm concerned, you're just as important."

He smiles. "Well, I appreciate that. And if we can find some lyrium potions, this whole argument-"

"I'm not arguing!" I protest, crossing my arms and shooting him an indignant sideways look.

He chuckles. "Alright, fine, this _conversation_ won't even really matter, because I won't _be_ pushing myself too far, will I?"

"I guess not. So let's see if we can find some."

**oOo**

We have to ask at three stores before we find one that sells lyrium. Apparently mages are seen with extreme rarity in Perendale. Even the shopkeeper who has some in stock only has a few. I eye the flasks dubiously, wondering exactly how old they are, before paying the man. _It's not like it's a matter of choice, Rahna,_ I remind myself._ Still, I hope lyrium doesn't go bad..._ I stow the flasks in my pack, since I'm the only one with room left, and we continue through the town. Sorry as I'll be to see Zevran leave, I can't wait to reach Weisshaupt. I am sodding _tired_ of walking.

"So how much farther is it to Weisshaupt?" Jowan asks as we reach the outskirts of the town.

I chuckle. "Not too much farther, maybe a little over a week's walk? You sound like you're just as anxious to get there as I am," I tease, elbowing him in the ribs.

He shakes his head and smiles at me. "No, I was just-" He breaks off in the middle of the sentence and spins on one heel to stare after a dark haired elf who brushed past us heading in the opposite direction. He stares after her for a few seconds before shaking his head and turning back to following Zevran out of town.

"You going to tell me what that was all about?" I ask, almost running a few paces to catch up. "I'm practically _dying_ of curiosity. So tell me, or submit to a barrage of questions," I warn playfully. _Chief among them being why are you almost as pale as when I asked you about Lily?_

Jowan sighs and drags one hand through his hair. "For a second I thought that was Miri." He shakes his head. "But she was too tall. And Miri was a _lot_ skinnier than that."

_Ah. That would explain it._ "Oh. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he mutters.

"Why do you always refer to Miri in past tense?"

He gives me a look that implies the answer should be obvious. "Rahna, if Greagoir wanted to execute me, how would she have gotten off any easier?"

I shrug. "You never know."

"You're too much of an optimist."

"And _you're_ too much of a pessimist, so we balance each other out," I retort with a grin as we catch up to Zevran.

_A/N: I know in the cutscene in the game, Howe hired the Crows, and Loghain just basically 'Sure, whatever' type okays it, but Rahna didn't see that, so as far as she knows, Loghain was the one who hired the Crows. And I share Rahna's eagerness to get to Weisshaupt... I have some cool stuff planned. There's still a certain mage's Joining to take care of and all...=)_


	32. What Could Have Been

32. What Could Have Been

I'm sick and tired of walking, my side is starting to hurt again, and I think there's a pebble inside my boot. Other then those minor complaints, there isn't really anything worth noting at this point. We're still almost a week away from Weisshaupt-and when Zev leaves-and I find myself torn between wanting it to take longer and wishing it was over already. I don't want Zev to leave, but at the same time, I can't wait for all this walking to be behind me.

I don't know why it's taken so long to hit me, but I suddenly would rather do just about anything other than walk. "When we get to Weisshaupt, I swear I'm staying right sodding there for at least a couple months," I mutter under my breath as I hike my pack up higher, so it rides more on my shoulders.

"You okay, Rahna?"

"I'm fine, Jowan. Just fed up with all this walking," I admit with a wry smile, brushing a few wayward strands of hair out of my face.

He laughs. "I'll bet you are."

"When we get to Weisshaupt, I'm not traveling _anywhere_ for a couple months at least. I know I'll eventually go stir-crazy and _have_ to get out, but after I tell the First Warden about the darkspawn, I'm taking a break."

"If anyone deserves one, it's you."

I cock my head to one side as I look up at him. "Are you nervous? About joining?"

He shrugs. "A little. It'll probably get worse as we get closer, though."

"Comforting thought," I mutter teasingly.

"Oh, very. By the way, how's your side feeling?"

"It's fine. Still aches a little on occasion-"

"Like now?"

"Sod it all, how do you _do_ that?" I demand in exasperation. "I could put on my brave face with any one of my companions while fighting the Blight, and they all bought it, even Zev and Alistair. So how come you keep catching this stuff?"

He shrugs. "I honestly don't know. I just do."

"Hmph. I guess that'll have to do for an answer, then," I grumble, still insanely curious how this mage who's only been traveling with me for three months knows me better than the elf who'd been here almost a year and a half.

**oOo**

_The Fade looks...smokier this time, the edges of things blurring more than usual, which is weird. I'm also not standing in the familiar campsite, I'm in a tunnel, the walls oozing darkspawn corruption and the floor littered with broken weapons and half-rotted corpses. I grimace in disgust, glad dreams don't usually come complete with smells, as I realize where I am._

_The Deep Roads. I'm standing in the Deep Roads. I hear the clang of steel meeting steel around the curve ahead of me and cautiously move toward it. When I round the corner, shock freezes my feet to the floor. Two figures stand in a very familiar back to back stance, surrounded by enough darkspawn to overwhelm even the best warrior._

_The taller of the two, a man with honey colored hair, shoves his shield into the chest of an attacking hurlock before spinning so I can see his face._

_Alistair. My insides go cold. And then the other figure becomes visible as two more darkspawn fall to her blades._

_It's __**me**__. I feel the breath rush out of my lungs in disbelief as I watch the two of us-considerably older; my hair is longer, streaked with grey, and pulled back in a braid, and Alistair has an actual beard, not just stubble-fight our losing battle against the horde of darkspawn._

_"Is that the death you would wish him?" I whirl at the new voice and come face to face with Morrigan._

_"What are __**you**__ doing here?" I spit._

_"The venomous tone is not necessary, Warden," Morrigan replies coolly. "'Tis not my fault you lost him. Indeed, I offered you a way to avoid precisely the outcome you seem to so deeply regret. And you turned me down." Her golden eyes glitter. "But since what's done 'tis done, I ask again; is this the death you would prefer for him?" She nods at the two figures, now wearing down in their attacks. I almost cry out as the Fade version of me fails to block a genlock's dagger and falls with the blade embedded in her heart._

_Alistair lets out a wordless scream of rage and flings himself on the genlock responsible, removing its head with one swing of his sword, but opening himself up to an attack from behind, an opportunity one hurlock emissary refuses to pass up._

_"What __**is**__ this?" I demand of the Witch, whirling away so I don't have to watch Alistair die-again._

_"This is what would have happened, had Alistair not perished on the roof of Fort Drakon. This is your Calling, my __**friend**__." The last word is far too caustic to be meant sincerely and feels like a dagger in my heart as she continues. "When the two of you descend to the Deep Roads, never to be seen or heard from again. Would you truly wish this end on the man you love? Tormented by the taint that flowed in his veins and forced to watch you die?"_

_She already knows my answer; that's probably why she asked. "No. No, I wouldn't. I know what it feels like to watch the one you love die and not be able to stop it. I would never wish that on __**anyone**__." I still wish I hadn't lost him, but to put him through what I've endured without him... I couldn't do that._

_She nods. " Very well. That is all I wished to know." She turns and walks away, fading just before she passes out of my line of sight. _

**oOo**

I wake with a start, gasping for breath and hoping desperately I didn't cry out while in that nightmare. I pull my blankets back up to my chin-it's getting colder as we get farther north-and try to go back to sleep.

And fail miserably. The image of Alistair's face when the Fade me was killed is burned into my mind and won't go away. The terror, pain, and _rage_ that flew across his face in that one moment have seared themselves into my memory. _"Is this the death you would wish him?"_ Morrigan's almost mocking query echoes around the image until the tears threaten.

_How do I even know she was telling the truth? She's mage, couldn't she have manipulated the Fade to make it show what she wanted it to show? Maybe it wouldn't have happened that way. Maybe we wouldn't have even gone at the same time._ I know that probably isn't true; Alistair was only a Warden six months longer than I was. With how much I loved him, had the time come for his Calling before it came for mine, I would have gone with him without hesitation, knowing mine wasn't far behind anyway.

After twenty minutes of mental wrestling and futile attempts to go back to sleep, I give up, shove back the blankets, and crawl out of my tent. Jowan turns at the rustle of my tent flap and I smile sheepishly.

"Can't sleep," I mutter, hugging my arms close to my chest as the cool night air ruffles my shirt.

"Ah. Bad dream?" He offers a sympathetic smile as I cross to sit next to him.

"Mm-hm. Not of the Grey Warden variety but still less then pleasant." I bite my lip in mometary indecision before blurting out, "How much do you know about the Fade?" I plunk down next to Jowan and pull my knees into my chest as I wait for his reply.

"What?" He looks over at me, one eyebrow quirked in confusion.

I repeat myself. "I know it's a strange question to ask out of the blue in the middle of the night, but there's some...things I've been wondering about, and you're the only mage available to interrogate. Lucky you."

"Yes, lucky me," he mutters dryly. "And in all honesty, Rahna, I'm _technically_ not a mage. I never had my Harrowing, so I'd still count as an apprentice if they didn't consider me a maleficar."

"And dead," I remind him cheerily. "But what's so important about the Harrowing? I mean, what do you have to do?" I rest my chin on my knees.

"All I know is what Miri told me after hers, and she was vague. She just said she had to defeat a demon. Which makes sense if you think about it. She couldn't tell me any more; the Harrowing's supposed to be a secret. But I was curious, and she always had trouble telling me no." The look in his eyes fairly shouts that he wishes that hadn't been the case.

"So they send an apprentice into the Fade and make you face a demon? Do you have a time limit? Is that your only option?"

"One question at a time, Rahna," Jowan laughs. "Yes, essentially, that's what happens in a Harrowing, I don't know if there's a time limit, wouldn't surprise me if there was, and no, it's not your only option. You can also be made Tranquil. Or die."

"That's the shabbiest set of options I've ever heard in my life," I mutter indignantly. "How is Tranquil any better than being dead? Emotions are half the joy of living. Even the less than pleasant ones, like pain and sorrow."

"Why do you think I wanted to leave?" he points out with a wry smile.

"Good point," I concede. "But back to my question; how much do you know about the Fade?"

"Honestly, not too much more than you do, probably," he admits. "I'm far from an expert. Why?"

"I..." I sigh. _Maker, this is going to sound ridiculous._ "The dream I had tonight, the one that's the reason I can't sleep, I, um, think I saw what might possibly have been the future had...certain things happened differently. So I guess what I'm really wondering is if a mage could manipulate the Fade somehow to make it show someone who's_ not _a mage what they wanted them to see."

He sighs and drags one hand through his hair. "_That's_ a question for someone like Irving. Because I honestly have no idea. Sorry."

"S'alright. It _is_ a pretty sodding big question. Maybe I can ask somebody when we get to Weisshaupt. They might know." I yawn so wide I hear my jaw pop.

"Rahna, go back to bed," Jowan chuckles.

Normally I'd protest, but I think talking to someone helped; the image of Alistair's face is fading, and I could probably get to sleep now. So I push myself to my feet, a task far harder to accomplish than it should be, and head back to my tent. I barely manage to crawl inside and snuggle under the warmth of my blankets before a deep-and blissfully dreamless-sleep claims me.

**oOo**

I pay the price for my restless night the next day. I just do _not_ feel like walking. And when I try to ignore the weariness and force myself to keep up with Zevran's pace, I trip over a small clump of grass and tumble to the ground, my still-healing side banging against the only rock for probably a mile or two.

_That_ leads to a rather vehement-and totally out of character for me-string of curses, because sweet sodding Maker above, that _**hurt**_. I angrily shove myself back to my feet even as the words burst from my lips and grit my teeth as I keep walking. I try to ignore the new throbbing ache relentlessly pounding away at my ribcage and hope Jowan and Zev get the message to bloody well leave me alone right now. I'm not responsible for my actions or words at the moment, and I don't want to do or say anything I'll regret later. _There's far too much of that in my past._

A new spike of pain shoots through my side and I swear irritably under my breath again. _Andraste's bloody knickers, what's wrong with me? I never curse this much._

I push on regardless of the settling ache until Jowan makes me stop with an admonishment I'm going to kill myself if I keep this up. "Jowan-"

"I'm serious, Rahna. Sit. _Down_." There's no room for negotiation in his tone.

I obey, mentally grumbling about how he sure picked a sodding great time to get all self-confident. "Jowan, I'm _fine_. You worry too much."

"Maybe so, but you can harrass me about that _after_ I get a look at your side and make sure there's nothing wrong." He's not going to budge on this, I can tell.

I sigh in exasperation and pluck at the buckles of my armor, fighting the straps until Zevran steps up to help. As he undoes the straps, he gives me a look that says plainly he knows this no-questions-asked obedience is not like me at all and an interrogation with be forthcoming.

_Great. Sodding, bloody __**wonderful**_.

Turns out Jowan and I were both right, sort of; there's no serious damage to the healing area, but there are some nasty new bruises from already-tender skin colliding with unforgiving stone.

"Told you so," I tease as Jowan calls up a small healing spell for the bruises.

"Rahna, you're all black and blue," he retorts.

"But it's nothing serious," I point out. "Just mild discomfort. So there. _I told you so_." I resist the urge to stick out my tongue, but only just, as the healing spell fades and he lets me get up.

Zevran chuckles as I wriggle back into my armor, and I demand to know what that's all about as we resume walking. "The two of you bicker like an old married couple," he informs me in an undertone. "It is quite amusing, minx."

Maker, I _feel_ myself go red. "So what? You and I do it, too. Nothing ever was made of _that_."

He laughs. "Ah, Rahna, my dear, if you could just see yourself right now. It is precisely because you do _not_ go this incredibly amazing shade of red when our bickering is mentioned that nothing is ever made of it. But with him, it is different, no? Have things changed from what you told me, then? That he is merely a friend?"

"Of course they haven't changed, Zev. We're still just friends."_ Maker, let him believe me. I'm tired of telling him the truth and being met with suspicion._

His eyes say he believes me. "I see," he replies, tone carefully neutral before a grin creeps in. "Then I will settle for teasing you about imagined feelings simply for the pleasure of seeing your face go so very red."

"Zev!" I protest, swatting his arm.

"I am what I am, minx. And it is so very fun."

I refuse to reply beyond a sigh of exasperation as I stomp ahead, my earlier bad mood evaporated in the face of Zev's teasing.

_A/N:Before anyone gets suspicious/jubilant or anything, Rahna is telling the truth; she and Jowan are just friends and they are going to stay that way all the way through Aftermath. Just to be clear. Because I know certain people (*clears throat*) want them together. And I had too much fun writing Zev's teasing of the fearless(and blushing) leader. =) I'm gonna miss him..._


	33. An Unexpected Discovery

33. An Unexpected Discovery

The remaining week between us and Weisshaupt passes quickly, and before I know it, the outline of the towering fortress has appeared on the horizon, growing closer until it's only a few hours' walk from where we stand. We'll get there tomorrow; it's getting late and if we don't set up camp now, we'll end up walking in the dark _and_ arriving in the middle of the night, which I would rather avoid. Besides, this way Zev won't leave until morning. And he has first watch tonight, so it's only fair I make him stick around to take it.

He chuckles when I explain my logic. "Oh, you are a devious one, minx. Though I am glad I am so useful to you." He leans forward to stir the fire so it stays alive.

"I like having you around for more reason than that, and you know it, Zev!" I protest with a laugh. "You're my friend, and you've been around...quite a while. Y'know, through everything. Forgive me if I'm reluctant to say goodbye."

"Very well, I forgive you, _amica_," he replies with an easy grin. "Now get some sleep so you are ready when it is your watch."

"Yes, ser," I tease, snatching up an apple as I head for my tent. _I'm really going to miss him._ It's finally sinking in that Zevran is going to be gone after tomorrow. He won't be around to joke, tease me, flirt outrageously with every pretty girl he sees while I roll my eyes behind his back. He's the one thing that's been there constantly for the past year, and I'm suddenly wondering what it'll be like to not have him around. _Not nearly as exciting, that's for sure. I guess I'll find out tomorrow._

**oOo**

Letting Zev leave is hard, especially knowing where he's going and why. He's very good at what he does, but the whole of the Antivan Crows? I can't completely ignore the voice whispering this may be the last time I see him, _ever_.

"Goodbye, Zev." I follow the gentle nudging in my head and hug him tight, pressing a kiss against his cheek as I step back.

"Come now, minx," he teases. "One would think you were never going to see me again." He chuckles at the look I give him. "Never fear, _carissima amica_, I shall not let the Crows best me." He kisses the back of my hand and smiles roguishly. "Now, let me be on my way and you on yours." He offers Jowan a nod of farewell. "Good luck, my friend."

And then he leaves. Shoulders his pack, turns, and starts walking toward Antiva. I will myself not to cry, but still have to swipe at a rebellious tear or two as they escape and trickle down my face. "Let's go," I mumble, almost savagely adjusting my own pack before heading toward the not-so-distant fortress. Jowan knows me well enough to not say anything as he falls in step behind me.

**oOo**

Weisshaupt Fortress turns out to be both closer and bigger than it looked from our campsite. I have to tilt my head way back to see the topmost spires as we near the front gate. "Sweet Maker above..." I murmur softly, the words emerging in a puff of white into the cold air.

"You said it," Jowan mutters.

I look up at him. "Nervous?"

He tries to smile and only halfway succeeds. "What do you think?"

"I think I would definitely be nervous if I was you. Sod, I'm nervous as _me_. This place is...awe-inspiring." A thought occurs to me, one I can't believe didn't until now. "Um, are we giving them your real name or using Levyn?"

He thinks about that for a second. "This may be one of the dumbest decisions I've made in my life, but let's stick with Jowan. I've, um, re-adjusted to answering to that, let's not risk using a name I might not immediately recognize as _me_."

"Good point. The Wardens won't care about your past, and once you've joined, the Chantry can't touch you. Besides, I'd never remember to call you anything other than Jowan." The guards outside the gate stand straighter as we draw near.

"What business have you with the Grey Wardens?" one of them greets us, his tone brusque.

"I need to speak to the First Warden about an urgent matter, and I have a recruit for our ranks," I reply, remembering what Riordan told me about his one and only visit to Weisshaupt. _"They're a cold group, and don't care like they should about the rest of the world."_

"'_Our_ ranks'?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

"Rahna Tabris, only surviving Grey Warden of Ferelden," I introduce myself, purposely leaving off the other title.

His eyes widen in recognition of the name. "I-I see. The Hero of Ferelden?"

_Drat. He already knows it. _I see Jowan hastily bite back a smile as I nod. "Indeed I am."

"Go right on in," the guard insists, warming to us slightly, turning to catch the attention a young man in Warden armor. "Len, show these two the way to the First Warden's study."

"Right away, ser," Len replies without hesitation before gesturing for me and Jowan to follow him. "Come on."

**oOo**

We follow him down a maze of hallways that I'm sure I'll get lost in if I attempt them without a guide like we have now. When we reach the First Warden's study, Len has us wait in the outer part while he makes sure the First Warden is free to meet with us. He returns a moment later. "Go right in. He can talk as long as you need."

"Thank you," I smile as Jowan and I head into the study.

The First Warden looks up from his stack of papers as we enter and nods a greeting. "Len tells me you have something urgent to speak to me about?"

I take a deep breath before I begin. "The darkspawn didn't return to the Deep Roads after the archdemon's death. They still roam Ferelden, and I'm concerned what that means."

"Indeed?" He runs one hand through his greying brown hair. "That _is_ somewhat disturbing. They've never immediately returned to the Deep Roads, but for there to still be roaming bands is grave news indeed." He stands and paces the room as he thinks. "This will require some thought. I don't like the implications." His gaze flickers to Jowan. "Is this the recruit Len told me you brought with you?"

"He is," I reply. Seeing the skeptical look in the man's eyes as he takes in Jowan's attire, I add, "He's a mage, specializes in primal magic, though he's not a bad healer, if I do say myself."

"And you think he'll do well as a Warden?"

"I _know_ he will. I've seen him fight on more than one occasion. Trust me when I say I'm glad he's on my side."

"Mm. I see. And your name is?"

"Jowan." I exchange mildly sheepish grins with Jowan as we both answer at the same time. I'm so used to doing all the talking, it's force of habit to answer.

The First Warden chuckles. "You'll be welcome among us. We're low on mages at the moment. And if you're capable of healing, well," he smiles, "it's as if the Maker himself dropped you in our laps."

Jowan rubs the back of his neck in and embarrassed gesture I recognize all too well. "Only just, ser."

I have to scoff at that. "Oh, yes. You merely saved my life. I'd count that as a little more than 'only just', my friend."

Another chuckle rumbles out of the First Warden's chest. "Well, you arrived just in time; we were planning a Joining ceremony for the day after tomorrow, so you have a while to get settled in. I need some time to think about this information you have given me about the darkspawn, Rahna. We can talk more later. For now, Len can show you to some of our available rooms."

"Thank you, ser." We leave the room. "See, that wasn't so bad," I whisper to Jowan, gently elbowing him in the ribs.

"No, it wasn't," he admits with a relieved smile. "I know that's not all there is to it though, Rahna."

"You're right, it's not. But it was half the battle," I point out. _Even if it was the easy half._ "Now, let's get Len to show us to these available rooms." I try to push thoughts about the Joining out of my mind. Every time they start drifting in, all I can see is Daveth. _Maker help me, __**that**__ better not happen to Jowan._

**oOo**

Len shows us the rooms, which are a good size for a single occupant, and, to my relief and delight, right next to each other. "Here you are. They're yours, for as long as you need them." He looks at me as he says the last part, and I feel a shudder climb my spine at the unspoken reminder of what may happen at the Joining. _It won't. He'll make it. He sodding __**better**_.

"So, are you going to tell me?" Jowan asks as I lean against the wall near the window in his room after getting settled in. I'm so used to being around him and Zev, the idea of sitting in my room alone doesn't appeal to me in the slightest.

"Tell you what?" I consider feigning ignorance, but with how scary well Jowan can read me, I decide against that tactic.

"The signifigance of the look Len gave gave you with that 'as long as you need them' comment. Is there something I should know?"

I sigh and cross the room to join him on the bed, hearing the springs creak as I sit. "Remember how you told me there was only so much Miri told you about her Harrowing because it was supposed to be a secret?"

He nods.

"Well, the Joining is like a mage's Harrowing in more ways than one. It's secret, for starters, and..." I bite my lip. I probably shouldn't tell him, for a whole plethora of reasons, but he's my friend, and I hate the thought of keeping secrets from him. "...and there's a chance you...won't survive."

He blinks at me. "I could die?"

I nod, feeling miserable for not telling him earlier, but how could I have? "That is a possibility, yes."

He sighs, chews on his bottom lip for a few seconds, then shrugs. "Well, I'm a dead man walking if I don't join anyway, so what do I have to lose?"

"So you're not mad at me or anything for not telling you sooner?"

"Rahna, you're the only friend I have right now, and besides, with all you've done for me, I don't think I could ever get _really_ mad at you."

I sigh in relief. "I'm glad for that. You feel like exploring this place a bit?"

He smiles. "Why not? If we're going to be here for a while, may as well get to know it a little better."

It's in the process of exploring that we make an entirely unexpected discovery. Or, well, it finds us.

**oOo**

"_**Jowan**_?" The disbelieving exclaimation from a side room is quickly followed by a red and gold blur as the speaker, an elf in Tevinter mage robes, flies out into the hallway and latches her skinny arms around Jowan's waist.

"Miri?" He looks as shocked to see her as she apparently is to see him. "What're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." The dark skinned mage raises an eyebrow. "I thought for sure the templars would hunt you down after you...left." I catch the slight hesitation, and from his wince, so does Jowan.

"I'm sorry," he tells her contritely. "Sorry for the blood magic, and lying to you, and abandoning you, and-"

"You're forgiven." Miri cuts him off with a simple sentence and a genuine smile. "I think I forgave you two seconds after you took off."

"Y'know, maybe we should move out of the way," I point out, tugging on Jowan's elbow to move him out of the middle of the hallway. I smile at Miri. "And I'm Rahna, by the way." Both her eyebrows shoot up at the introduction.

"Rahna...as in, The Hero of Ferelden?" she demands.

I nod, begging Andraste to just take me now if Miri is going to be as bad as some people. Jowan smirks at me over her head, and I fight off the temptation to sock him in the arm.

"How in the Maker's name did you get so sodding _lucky_?" Miri demands, finally peeling herself off of him to plant her hands on her hips. After socking him in the arm. I grin as he protests. I think she and I are going to get along just fine.

Miri ushers us into the room she had been in when she saw Jowan, a small study filled with books, most of them on magic.

"So how did you manage to avoid execution for helping me?" Jowan asks as Miri closes the door. "And how did you end up in the Wardens?"

She laughs. "The answer is the same for both. And involves stubbornly refusing to change my mind."

"Oh?" Jowan raises an eyebrow. "This I have to hear."

I'm curious as well, so we both sit and listens to Miri tell how she left the Circle and joined the Grey Wardens.

_A/N: I really hated writing Zev out. *sulks* But, there was a logical(mostly) chain of reason behind doing that, and you'll see it eventually, I promise. Also, sorry to cut it off before you get the missing chunk of Miri's story, but it's going to be long enough I need to save it for next time. The next chapter's going to start with her story, so it'll be a little different than how I've been doing things thus far, but the missing pieces will be filled in pretty well, I think, if the rough draft is any indication..._


	34. New Twist On an Old Tale

34. New Twist on an Old Tale

"Where should I start?" Miri asks, folding her legs under her as she gets comfortable in one of the chairs.

"Um, I guess start right after I, um, left," Jowan mutters as he and I sit down as well.

"Okay. Well, the templars threw me in a cell, and I do mean that literally, and then just left me there so long I lost track of time..."

**oOo**

Miri stared aimlessly toward the faintly lit half circle that was the only opening in the door of her cell. The faint flickering light came from a couple somewhat anemic torches further up the passageway to the rest of the tower. _I wonder how long it's been... _The lack of daylight penatrating to the depths of the tower's dungeon robbed her of the ability to tell how many days had passed since she'd been thrown in here. For helping a friend. Assisting a maleficar, Greagoir had called it, but Miri hadn't known Jowan was a blood mage when she'd helped him. _Would it have made a difference? _The thought had been tormenting her, nagging her, since the moment the door thudded closed behind her. She honestly didn't know. If she had known... Miri shook her head, wincing as the latent remains of her headache sprang to life again. _Maker above_. She groaned and rested her head in her hands. _How much longer am I going to have to wait?_ She knew she was bound for either Aeonar or execution, probably the latter. Greagoir's rage in the face of her actions had not promised even a hint of mercy.

_I wish they would just sentence me and get it over with_, the elf grumbled to herself. She was still sore from being roughly dragged down to the cell she now occupied, had completely lost track of time in this lightless hole, and just wanted it to be over. Even if 'over' meant dying.

The templars came for her Maker only knew how much later, throwing open the door and hauling her to her feet. Still-sore muscles complained, and she hissed in pain at the tight grip the two men assumed on her arms as they forcefully 'helped' her along. The light hurt her eyes after so long in the dark, and Miri squinted, her headache back full force, as she stumbled along between them toward Irving's office.

Greagoir and Irving were already waiting, Irving with an expression of 'my-hands-are-tied' sympathy and Greagoir's look speaking of even more impatience and righteous anger than usual.

"What you have done is not in question," the Knight-Commander began almost as soon as the young mage entered the room. "You helped a blood mage escape, destroying his pylactery in the process, which will make catching him much more difficult. You say he lied to you; that you did not know he was a blood mage when you helped him-"

"I even _asked_ him!" Miri burst out. "He said there was a rumor going around that he was a blood mage and I asked if it was true. He said of course it wasn't. He's my _best friend_! Why wouldn't I believe him?" she demanded.

One of the templar guards let go of her arm to backhand her across the face, his gauntlet raising a red welt almost immediately and nearly breaking the skin. "Watch your tone, elf!"

_Bloody fantastic. I drew a racist templar to be my guard._ Miri kept that thought to herself, not wanting to get hit again, as she worked her jaw to make sure she still _could_. "With all due respect, Knight-Commander, if what I've done isn't in question, what am I doing here?" She shied away as the templar raised his hand again, but this blow never came.

"Because I want to know if you still stand by your decision to help him," Greagoir replied. "I want to know if time to think about your choice has made you realize the grave error of the bravado you displayed outside the repository."

Miri glanced at Irving before answering. "What difference would that make?"

"Irving has made a strong case for a...less severe punishment if you have come to regret your decision. If you are no longer so firm in your defiance of our rules, you will be sent to Aeonar, rather than executed. However, if you still hold to you choice, I will have no choice but to execute you for the assistance you gave to a maleficar."

One small part of Miri screamed, _Take it! Tell him you regret it! Tell him you realize it was stupid and you should have turned Jowan in when you came to Irving! Don't throw your life away for him! He lied to you, betrayed your trust, abandoned you and Lily. What kind of friend is that?_

_The kind that's scared and hurt. And I'm not going to lie,_ the rest of her retorted. "Well, I still stand by my decision," she informed Greagoir. "I'll _never_ regret helping my _friend_."

Anger tightened Greagoir's jaw even further. "Foolish girl! You see, Irving, she is far too headstrong. I told you she wouldn't back down." He looked back at Miri. "Well, then, you leave me no choice. You are hereby sentenced to death for assisting a maleficar." He turned to the templars. "Take her away."

**oOo**

She didn't make it easy for the templars as they dragged her away. _I may deserve it, but Maker help me, I will __**not**__ go quietly._ She managed to yank one arm free-being skinny had definite advantages at times-but the templar who slapped her earlier landed a solid blow on her already bruised jaw that sent her tumbling to her knees, her head spinning and exploding with pain at the same time.

"On your feet, _now, _elf bitch," the templar growled.

"Hold!" The voice, male, authoritative, and tinged with the oddest accent Miri had ever heard, stopped the templar mid-motion as he reached to yank her to her feet. Miri stayed right where she was, hands pressed against the cold stone floor and eyes on the ground. A pair of feet, clad in gleaming silver plate boots, appeared in her line of sight. Still nursing her head and not able to make herself all that curious, Miri resisted the urge to follow those boots up to the face of their wearer. "What are you doing?"

"We, Warden, are doling out punishment for a crime commited and a lack of repentance on the part of this mage," she heard Greagoir inform the man.

"Indeed? What was this crime?" the Warden asked, shifting his weight ever so slightly as he listened to Irving explain how his star pupil came to tumble so thoroughly from 'teacher's pet' to comdemned to die. "She is to be executed for helping a friend, then? And not regretting it?"

"She aided in the escape of a blood mage!" Greagoir exclaimed. "This cannot go unpunished."

"Mm. You know, such loyalty is a rare thing indeed," the Warden pointed out.

Miri kept her eyes on the ground, but lifted one hand to her bruised jaw as Greagoir repeated his same speech about the dangers of blood magic, how any assisting blood mages deserved the same fate as the maleficarum themselves did.

"She is a talented mage and a loyal friend and for this you plan to kill her? No." A slight smirk tinged the Warden's voice. "Such qualities should not be wasted in such a manner. I would like to recruit this mage to the ranks of the Wardens."

Greagoir protested, vehemently. "Reward her for her actions? No! I refuse to allow this!"

"Greagoir," Irving interrupted, "if he truly wishes to recruit her, he has but to invoke the Right of Conscription. Is it not better to appear cooperative to the order sworn to our protection?"

The Knight-Commander sighed heavily. "Very well, Irving. Warden, if you insist, you may have her," he acquiesced, frustration obvious in his tone.

"I most assuredly do insist," the Warden replied coolly. The boots clanked against the stone as he walked closer to Miri. She looked up ever so slightly as the silver gauntlet appeared in her field of vision. Still massaging her tender jaw, she took it and the Warden hauled her to feet.

**oOo**

It wasn't until they were in the boat, heading for the far shore of Lake Calenhad, that Miri allowed herself to study her rescuer. He sat in front of her in the boat, so she could only see the back of his head, but she didn't mind for now.

He was an elf. Like her. This surprised her. The most trusted order in Thedas would recruit elves to their ranks when others would not take her kind if they begged? His hair was bright, deep red, slightly shaggy in the back, and currently being swept back from his face by the wind. He must have sensed her eyes on him, for he turned to look at her, a smile creasing his pale face.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, Miri started to duck her head. But his light brown eyes weren't annoyed, or mocking, or angry, so she met them with a sheepish smile as the boat pulled up to the dock.

"Come on," the Warden encouraged, offering her a hand out of the boat. He looked at the purple and gold sky. "I don't think we would get very far tonight, I'm afraid. We'll stay at the inn and leave in the morning."

Miri just nodded. She didn't care, as long as she was out of the tower.

**oOo**

The innkeeper at The Spoiled Princess informed them he only had one room free. And that it only had one bed. He grinned slightly at the two of them as he tacked that little bit on the end.

"I'll take it." The Warden dropped the necessary coin on the bar and guided Miri toward the room by her elbow. "No worries, I'll sleep on the floor," he whispered in her ear as they headed up the stairs.

Relief fluttered through her. "Thank you, Ser..." she trailed off, realizing she hadn't caught his name.

"My apologies. Gabriel Andras, Grey Warden of Orlais, at your service." He offered her an abbreviated bow as they reached the room.

_Ah, that explains the accent, then. _She smiled. "Miri Surana. And my thanks for your timely rescue."

"No trouble at all," Gabriel assured her as he rested his sword and shield against the wall and stripped off his gauntlets. "We need more Wardens, especially if these stories of a Blight are true. And your loyalty to your friend is admirable."

Miri blushed slightly as she rubbed her jaw. "Thank you, Ser Andras."

He chuckled. "Please, it's just Gabriel. Does your jaw pain you?"

"It does," she admitted, feeling gingerly along its length. "Along with just about every other part of my body."

"Well, allow me." He dug through his cast-off pack until he came up with a shirt, long past its days of service, and tore off a section. "I was saving this to use for bandages, should the need arise," he explained when Miri began to protest. He soaked the material in the bowl of water meant to serve for washing up, wrung it out, and held it to the purplish-black skin.

The coolness felt wonderful against her aching jaw. "Oh, thank the Maker," Miri mumbled under her breath. "My thanks yet again, but I can manage so you can finish." She brought her hand up over his to hold the cloth in place. The brief instant their hands touched sent fire tearing through her. From the way his face colored as if wishing to match his hair, he'd felt it as well. He hastily pulled his hand free and started working on removing the rest of his armor. "So, um," Miri cleared her throat, "where are we going?"

"We have to go to Jader," Gabriel explained, looking relieved to have something else to think about. "That's the nearest location capable of performing the Joining ceremony. Then we can return to Ferelden to see what we can do about the Blight."

Miri nodded. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

"I am glad to have your approval...Miri."

The way he said her name made something twist inside Miri in such a way that not even Cullen's adorable, stuttered compliments could. _This should be interesting..._

**oOo**

"So he saved my life and then we promptly fell for each other, _hard_. It was just under a week's trip to Jader, and, um, he...kissed me the day before we arrived. And I let him. Don't look at me like that!" she admonishes Jowan, who's all but smirking at her. "I know it's the plot of every damsel in distress tale sung by any bard under the Maker's blue sky. Even if the hero usually doesn't save the damsel by recruiting her to an organization dedicated to fighting monsters. So that's a new twist." She shrugs. "I think, given the chance of course, he and and would have fallen for each other without the whole saving my life thing. So, in a way, I should probably be thanking you for...you know what, 'cause we never would've met. And speaking of _you_, now now it's your turn to tell me how in the blazes you ended up here."

Jowan and I look at each other. "_Long _story, Mir," he laughs.

"I've got time."

So we tell her.

_A/N: Okay, so it was majorly weird to write a chapter where my main char hardly showed up at all. But Miri(and maybe Gabriel )will be important later one, so I felt like I needed to cover this and fill in gaps, that kind of thing. But we'll be back to Rahna's perspective next chapter now that this is taken care of. Promise! And like Miri says, I know her and Gabriel(yes, he's one of my Orlesians from Awakening) falling in love is flirting with the cliche, but there are reasons I did it anyway. One of which being that pretty much much everything is "cliche" now, in one way or another, so avoiding it entirely is nearly impossible. Another will show up later. =)_


	35. Gabriel

35. Gabriel

It takes the rest of the day to tell Miri how Jowan got here, mostly because he and I keep interrupting each other to clarify things, much to her amusement. And a few of my interruptions are because-in my opinion-Jowan's _way_ downplaying stuff he did. Like the darkspawn fight. And saving my life. Stuff like that.

"You two certainly seem to get along well," Miri teases when we finish.

"Well, it's been what, three months since we started travelling together?" I look over at Jowan. He's better at keeping track of things like that than I am.

He nods. "I think that's right. 'Sides, Rahna could get along well with just about anyone."

The knock on the door of the study cuts off what was I was intending to be a mildly sarcastic reply.

"Yes?" Miri stands and moves toward the door.

It opens before she reaches it. "There you are, Mir. I've been looking for you." From the elf's heavy Orlesian accent, almost as thick as Leliana's, and the shock of thick hair the same vibrant shade of red as Shianni's, I'm guessing this is Gabriel.

When he soundly kisses Miri, making her blush all the way to the tips of her ears, it's not guessing anymore.

"Gabriel!" she admonishes him-after indulging the kiss for a few seconds, I notice with a grin. "You might've checked to see if I was alone first!"

It barely fazes him when he sees me and Jowan. "We're supposed to hide the way we feel about each other?" he teases, playfully tapping her nose. Apparently Orlesians are far more blatant about their feeling than we're used to in Ferelden. Their intimacy sends a hard twinge of jealousy through me as images of Alistair teasing me in an incredibly similar manner flood my mind.

"Well, no," Miri relents. "Still, it's slightly awkward..."

"Why?" He nods toward us. "Who're your new friends?"

Miri looks sheepishly at Jowan. "Well, he's not exactly a _new_ friend," she says slowly, as if reluctant to tell Gabriel. "I've known him since I was five."

I see the moment Gabriel connects the dots, and his expression has me silently thanking the Maker that he's not armed. Not that I think he'd actually kill Jowan or anything. But he might try. And then I'd have to knock him senseless, and that's not the first impression I want to leave. I know Jowan's perfectly capable of taking care of himself-he's proved that how many times now?-I just have this habit of protecting my friends.

Fortunately I don't have to do _anything,_ because Miri presses one hand against Gabriel's chest even as his muscles tense. "Don't."

"Miri, he's the reason you almost got _killed_!" he protests, hands clenched into fists as if wishing for a sword.

"And believe me, I spent every day of my life for almost a year beating myself up for that," Jowan mutters. "I've never been sorrier for anything I've done in my life."

"And you think that makes everything all better?" Gabriel demands, practically shouting. That whole 'blatant about feelings' thing obviously extends beyond the realm of romance.

It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to not lunge at him._ Jowan can handle himself, Rahna. You need to trust him enough to let him fight his own battles. Keep your mouth shut._ I grit my teeth together.

Jowan shakes his head. "No. I know that doesn't magically erase what I did, and there's more than just that for me to regret, trust me, but I really am sorry."

"And I forgave him," Miri adds, shifting position so she's more firmly-and obviously-between Jowan and Gabriel, hand still pressed against his chest. "So now it's in the past, and it's going to _stay there_," she insists, pushing against Gabriel's chest until he takes half a step back. Still glaring at Jowan. Miri sighs. "Look, Gabriel, I love you, you know that. But Jowan and I have been best friends since I was _five years old_. And I've spent over a year thinking he was dead. I'm thrilled he's not, and I need you to at least accept that I've forgiven him for what he did."

Jowan and I look at each other as Miri stares at Gabriel. "You've really lucked out in the friends department, you know that?" I whisper.

He nods. "Believe me, I know. And I have no idea what the two of you see in me, honestly. Don't give me that look!" he mutters as I huff in exasperation and roll my eyes at him.

Gabriel, meanwhile, acquieses to his lady love's wishes and relaxes, the fire fading from his eyes as he nods. "Alright, Mir. You win." He chuckles and leans closer to whisper something I don't catch. Whatever it is makes Miri blush again as she nods, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. He looks at me. "And who's she?" His tone is curious, not angry.

"Rahna Tabris. Grey Warden of Ferelden," I introduce myself with a cordial bow, still somewhat reluctant to be nice to him.

"You know, the one who defeated the Blight," Miri adds, as if he couldn't figure that out on his own.

"I know, Miri." Gabriel's bow to me is genuinely respectful, and I feel petty for not wanting to like him. Still, looking like you want to kill-or at least seriously injure- one of my friends is hardly the way to earn my trust. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you," I mumble. "I hardly did it alone. And another...another Warden was the one who struck the death blow on the archdemon." The image of Alistair's face in that frozen moment fills my mind, but for once doesn't nearly drive me to tears. _Hm. That's progress._

"Still, all reports we've heard indicate that you were largely responsible for the outcome of the battle at Denerim. And you crowned the next ruler of Ferelden as well. Very impressive, especially for a relatively new recruit. Not many could have done what you did."

I shake my head. "All I did was agree that Queen Anora could keep her throne. I hardly crowned her myself. But thank you for the compliment nonetheless." My smile is somewhat genuine this time as I warm to him ever so slightly. _Can't really blame him for his reaction, anyway. I nearly tore the heads off anyone who even sort of threatened Alistair._

Miri yawns. "Well, it's late now, and I'm more than ready for bed." She wraps her arm through Gabriel's. "Care to walk me back to my room?"

He grins at her. "Of course, love." The two of them leave, Miri tossing a "See you in the morning" over her shoulder.

A yawn of my own nearly pops my jaw as the time sinks in. "Oh, Maker... I should probably go to bed, too." I mumble. "It's late."

Jowan chuckles. "You going to make it back to your room, Rahna?"

I nod. "I'm not_ that _tired. I'll be fine. Aren't you tired?" He had the last watch last night, so he's been up even longer than me.

"Not really. And I have some things to think about."

"Well, okay. G'night."

"Good night, Rahna."

I make it all the way back to my room and am already in bed before it sinks in. _He's thinking about Lily again. If seeing Miri wasn't enough to start that again, Gabriel's yelling at him must have been. Jowan, I swear, if you're moping about the past again, I'm gonna strangle you...tomorrow..._ Exhaustion wins over indignation, for now at least, and I snuggle into my pillow as I fall asleep.

**oOo**

"So, you wanna tell me what things you had to think about last night?" I narrow my eyes at the dark circles under Jowan's. "And how late you were up thinking about them? You know it helps to talk," I cajole when he doesn't answer.

He sighs. "Everything."

I cock my head in confusion. "Huh?"

"Everything I did." Almost as if it's subconcious and he doesn't know he's doing it, his right thumb rubs over the scar across his left hand.

He hasn't done that in over a month now, and I frown as I reach over to stop him. "Jowan, we've already talked that to death."

"Not all of it," he mutters. "Just...Lily."

Badly as I've wanted to ask about the rest of what he has on his conscience, now that he's cracked the door open to let me see, I don't know if I really want to. "I didn't feel like it was my place to ask. Talking about Lily and Alistair was sort of a fair trade. A way to just talk to someone so we weren't carrying all that by ourselves. I didn't want to ask you for any more-"

"Rahna, I killed the templars that came after me. With blood magic." He bites his lip. "That's part of why I don't want to use it ever again; it...it's just..." He shakes his head. "Some part of me couldn't stand myself for a long while after that."

"You killed _all_ of them?"

"Well, except the one who managed to get off a Holy Smite."

I wince. "Ouch. That can't have been fun." Alistair used that on some spellcasters we had to fight on our travels. Watching the results usually had me thanking the Maker I wasn't a mage.

"Pretty much knocked me senseless. But he was gone when I came to."

I frown in confusion but don't stop him. If he wants to tell me, he can tell me. _I think I might have met that templar._ "What happened to him?"

Jowan shrugs. "I don't know. All I know is he wasn't there and...Loghain's men were."

"Oh." _I definitely met that templar._ "Sorry to interrupt."

"S'alright. Not too much more to tell anyway." He rubs the back of his neck. "They dragged me to Denerim-not gently, I should add-and you know the rest. The deal with Loghain and everything."

I nod. He told me about that part the very first time we met. In Eamon's dungeon. The one and only time I agreed with Morrigan rather than Alistair. "I do. And Jowan, I understood then why you agreed to it. That hasn't changed. Without knowing what I knew, how were you supposed to know Loghain couldn't be trusted?"

"It still makes me feel like an idiot," he mutters, staring at the ground. "I can't help but think I should have known things couldn't be fixed _that_ easily."

"Hey," I admonish, elbowing him gently in the ribs. "Stop worrying about things you can't change."

"I know, I know." He smiles sheepishly. "Thanks for putting up with me when I get like this, Rahna."

"What're friends for? You should have _seen_ some of the moods Zev and Leliana had to drag me out of while we were fighting the Blight. Alistair on occasion, but I usually wasn't grumpy around him." I grin. "No idea why, of course."

"Oh, of course." Jowan chuckles.

"Oh, and, um, thanks for trusting me with all that."

He just nods. "You're welcome."

I push off the chair I was sitting in. "I think I"m going to see if I can find Miri." I send him a wicked grin. "Maybe find out a few of your darkest secrets. Aside from the fact you're ticklish. I already know that."

Maker, the look he gives me has me laughing so hard I nearly land back in the chair I just abandoned. "Rahna!"

I shrug and grin again as I pull out one of Zev's lines. "I am what I am." I turn to leave.

"Rahna, hang on a second."

I spin back around to look at him. "Hmm?"

He sighs. "I, um, wasn't going to ask about this, but I've been practically dying of curiosity for two weeks. You remember after our fight with the Crows, when you said Alistair did the 'important part' of ending the Blight, but you didn't want to talk about it then and told me you'd explain later? Is this 'later' enough?"

I bite my lip and rake one hand through my hair. I do kind of owe him one now. And I definitely trust him enough to tell him, but with it involving a Grey Warden secret, I don't think I should _just_ yet. "I'll tell you what; I'll explain after the Joining tomorrow. I promise. Okay?"

He nods. "I guess I can wait that long. After two weeks, what's one more day?" he teases.

"Exactly," I laugh. "Now, I really am going to go find Miri. Whether or not I try to pry secrets out of her, well," I shrug and grin at him, "we shall see." _Wonder how many secrets she'll share and what it would cost to bribe her? Jowan said she likes sweet stuff...I think I've got just the thing in my pack..._

Smirking to myself, I bolt for my room.

_A/N: I promise, I am not trying to stall and drag out the wait before the Joining to build up suspense. I'm hoping to get to it either next chapter or the one after that. Trust me, I want to get that over with as fast as possible._


	36. Bribery

36. Bribery

It takes a lot of digging through my pack to find what I'm looking for, considering how long it's been in there. Leliana gave it to me just before Zevran and I left Denerim, as sort of a goodbye present. I don't know where she got it from or how long she had it before giving it to me.

"Ah, there you are," I mutter as my fingers curl around the small bundle and I tug it out. I rub my fingers over the soft lilac-colored cloth wrapping, wondering how expensive this was. Of course, knowing Leliana, she probably either stole it, charmed it off the merchant, or paid for it with money lifted from some unsuspecting noble's pocket. It still smells ever so faintly of Andraste's Grace. I give the binding ribbon a gentle yank and unwrap the contents. _Score one for me. And Leli,_ I grin as I eye the small box of Orlesian chocolates. I break the corner off one and taste it to make sure they're still good. And are they _ever_. I suddenly don't want to share.

I smirk and force myself to put the lid back on the box. _Now I just need to find Miri._ She seemed to really like to read-just a general impression I got yesterday-so I decide to start in the library.

**oOo**

Miri's not in the library, but Gabriel is. Considering my attitude the last time I saw him, part of me is hesitant to talk to him, but I tell that part to hush as I brush back a stray lock of hair and greet the warrior.

"Morning, Gabriel."

He spins from examining the bookshelf and smiles. "Morning, Rahna. How did your first night in Weisshaupt treat you?"

"Slightly chilly, but being able to sleep in a real bed more than made up for that. I was getting really tired of sleeping on the ground."

"I'm sure you were. I remember when Miri and I came here from Jader. Had someone delayed our sleeping in beds another night, well..." he chuckles, "Miri would probably have frozen them to the spot before I had time to do anything to them."

"Why did you two come here, anyway? Just curious." I lean back against the end of one bookshelf and idly turn the box in my hands as I listen.

"After Miri's Joining, we were going to return to Ferelden and join the other Wardens at Ostagar." He lets out a rueful chuckle. "But then I had to go and break my ankle in a practice duel, and even with magical assistance it took almost three weeks to heal up. By the time we tried to cross the Frostback Mountains, Loghain had already sealed off the borders. And I'm sure you can guess how many different favors this accent did for me with _his_ men."

Remembering Loghain's intense, raging hatred of all things Orlesian, I nod. "I'm almost surprised they didn't try to kill you as a spy or something."

"They did actually." He smirks. "That was the first time I really started keeping track of all the benefits of being in love with a mage, particularly one with an unholy love of ice spells."

I snicker at him using the same word-unholy-to describe Miri's love of ice spells as Jowan did. "Lucky you."

"_Very_ lucky me," he corrects with a grin. "After that, we went back to Jader. About...two months later, the First Warden called us to Weisshaupt to help with 'researching and preparing for a Blight'. If it weren't for how superior the library here is to the one in Jader, I would have questioned why we had to come, but as things stood, we just said 'Yes, ser' and came. And Miri likes it here. She has a special affinity for the cold, I think."

"That would make sense, from what I've heard about her. Speaking of Miri, do you know where she is?"

"I think she's up in the old aeries. She goes there to read a lot, because the light's better than inside and there's less chance of being disturbed."

"Ah. Think she'll mind if I find her? This isn't a matter of life and death or anything. I can wait."

Gabriel laughs. "I honestly don't think _you_ could make her angry if you tried. Maker, I haven't heard her chatter like she did last night since the first-and only-time I asked about her life in the tower. Only that time was 'Jowan' every three words rather than 'Rahna'."

I drop my head into my hand. "Please tell me she's not hero-worshipping me or anything."

That makes him laugh even louder. "Rahna, my friend, if being the Hero of Ferelden wasn't enough, you also somehow managed to save her best friend from getting killed. Hero worship is inevitable."

I groan. "Wonder if I can get Jowan to talk some sense into her. I honestly couldn't have done all the things I did without my friends' help. And, as I said last night, I didn't even strike the killing blow on the archdemon."

"But what you did do was manage to keep an incredibly diverse group that normally wouldn't have anything to do with each other working together," he points out. "Even out here we heard about you. An apostate and an ex-templar? A Chantry sister and a mage? I must say the qunari was the one who impressed me the most. The fact he still followed you even after he could have left, I mean."

"That surprised me as well," I admit. A single, small voice whispers something in the back of my mind, and I follow its prompting without hesitation. "Um, Gabriel, this is off-subject, but I feel like I should..apologize for last night." _What are you doing? _the rest of my brain screams._ He probably didn't even notice your attitude, and thus you didn't need to say anything!_

"What about last night?" He frowns.

"When...when we first met, I was..." I search for the right word, "_reluctant_, I suppose, to be friendly toward you because of the way you looked like you wanted to, um, if not kill, seriously injure Jowan. I get _really_ protective of my friends, so while I can understand why you got so mad, my gut reaction in the moment was to...not like you very much." Maker, I can feel myself going red. Even more so than when Zevran would tease me about Jowan. "That passed rather quickly with a simple reminder of how I reacted if someone so much as hinted at hurting Al-someone I loved once. And now I'm over that initial burst of insanity, and like you just fine, but I figured I should still apologize."

"Well, thank you for the apology, and I accept. You did an excellent job masking your feelings last night. I would never have guessed you were struggling with that."

_See? See? You could've just kept your mouth shut and he wouldn't have ever known!_

_Oh, be quiet! I needed to do it for me as much as for him._ The voice shuts up. "Glad to hear I've gotten better at hiding emotions. Considering how I used to fly into either rage or fits of sobbing or shouts of joy at the slightest provocation," I chuckle. "Well, I guess I should go find Miri. We need to have a chat about a certain mutual friend." I smirk, which makes Gabriel laugh.

"Should I warn him this is happening?" he teases.

"Oh, I told him I was doing it. He's been sufficiently warned. I'll talk to you later."

"Of course." He smiles and turns back to examining the bookshelf as I leave.

**oOo**

Just like Gabriel said, Miri is sitting in one of the old aeries, lost in a book. I can't see the cover, but whatever it is must be fascinating to hold her interest so thoroughly.

I lean against the wall, hiding the bribe behind my back. "Mind if I join you?"

Her head whips up and she smiles. "Go right ahead. Did Gabriel tell you where I was?"

I nod as I sit down across from her. "I'd never have found you otherwise. My sense of direction is terrible. I probably would have gotten so lost they'd have to send search parties."

She chuckles at that. "So, were you looking for me for any particular reason, or just to talk?" She slips a blue ribbon between the pages of her book and closes it.

"Mm, both, I suppose. I want to talk, but had a particular subject in mind."

She grins. "Oh, really? And that would be...?"

"Jowan."

The grin turns to a laugh. "You could just ask him, you know. It's not like there's any huge secrets from before he left the tower."

"I know. And we have talked some. But I figure asking the best friend is a good way to learn the stuff he might not tell me. Secrets, any embarrassing moments, that kind of thing."

"Ah-ha." Miri's devious grin matches my own. "If I'm really his best friend, why would I tell someone else anything in that vein?"

In reply, I pull out the chocolates and hand them to her. "One of the things he told me was that you have a sweet tooth to rival mine."

She peeks inside the box and her eyes widen. "Are these Orlesian?"

"They are. A...goodbye present from a friend in Denerim. Don't worry, they're still good."

"Well then, in that case, what do you want to know?" Miri grins and folds her legs under her as she nibbles one of the chocolates.

"Hmmm...well, I already know he's ticklish and nearly _impossible_ to wake up."

"Oh, yes." She laughs. "I can't count how many times I resorted to hitting him with a pillow or all but yelling in his ear to wake him up. And you know he's ticklish, huh?"

"Yep. Found that out one night trying to wake him for his turn on watch duty."

"D'you know where he's _most_ ticklish, though?" Miri's grin is now decidedly devious.

"No, where?" I lean forward, biting back a grin of my own.

"Right here." Miri lightly jabs my side with two fingers, just below my ribcage. "And the right side's a lot more ticklish than the left. I found that spot when I was eight and he was ten." The memory must be a good one; she's all but smirking. "He'd been teasing me about my fire spells and I got sick and tired of listening to it-even though I'd just finished teasing _him_ about his ice spells-so I tackled him. When you're eight and don't want to cause any serious damage to your best and only friend, tickling is one of the first things that comes to mind."

"Mm-hm? I usually whacked Soris up the back of his head for teasing me. Maybe tickling would have been a better tactic."

"Oh, it works wonders. Especially when you find the extra-sensitive spots. Now, I got lucky; the way I landed on top of Jowan, right there was _really_ easy to reach. Maker, I had him absolutely begging for mercy in under two minutes." Now she is smirking, the self-satisfied smile of someone looking back on a particularly proud moment. "After that, all I had to do was _threaten_ to tickle him and he'd go along with _anything_."

"Even sneaking into Irving's office in search of chocolate?"

"He told you about that, huh?" Miri leans back against the wall, her grin more sheepish. "I felt horrible for getting him in trouble." She laughs. "It was _always_ my fault when we got in trouble. Always. I came up with the craziest schemes, he followed my lead, and we both wound up in trouble. And every single time was my fault. Well, except the last time." She sighs, a small, sad smile pulling at her lips. "_That_ one was all him, and Maker, it was a lot of trouble."

"I'll bet. That's one thing he never wanted to talk about. He told me, when I asked, but I could tell he didn't really like doing it. And I can't really blame him, honestly." I sigh. "Miri?"

"Hm?"

"You said it took all of two seconds for you to forgive him after he left. I know you were best friends and everything, but how'd you do it so _fast_?"

"Oh, it stung for a while that he'd lied to me about the blood magic, but getting caught wasn't supposed to happen. I knew that." Miri bites her lip. "And I realized-with all the time I had to think in that cell-that it's not exactly easy to tell someone you're a blood mage, even your best friend. It wasn't the kind of thing he could just drop casually into conversation. And even if I _had_ known, I still would have helped him. My loyalty to him ran deeper than my loyalty to the Circle." She grins, turning the conversation back to a more light-hearted tone. "But I think we got sort of sidetracked. You wanted to hear secrets and stuff like that."

"Oh, yes." I match her grin with one of my own. "Any you'll tell me."

She snorts. "For Orlesian chocolates? You kidding? I'll tell you anything. Let's see..." She nibbles one of the chocolates as she thinks. "Ooh, there's the time I got mad at him and locked him in a closet."

"_What_?" I stare at her in disbelief.

"Hey, I was nine, Irving took away my sweets, and Jowan picked the wrong day to tease me," she protests, still grinning.

"Oh, this I gotta hear."

_A/N: Annnnd I'm gonna stop there, before this chapter gets out of control. *evil grin* Don't worry, there'll be more next time, and hopefully the Joining, too. I really do want to get that over with..._


	37. What Duty Demands

37. What Duty Demands

"Well, there's really not much to that, actually," Miri admits. "I don't even remember what Jowan said that made me so mad. It probably wasn't anything horrible; I was just already in a bloody foul mood thanks to sugar withdrawal. But, anyway, we were in the dormitory, I was _not_ in the mood for any teasing whatsoever, so I shoved him in a closet, locked the door, and ignored him for...oh, maybe five minutes." She lets out a small, sheepish laugh. "I, um, forgot one teensy detail, though."

"What?" I shift position as my leg starts to fall asleep and lean closer. The phrase 'captive audience' comes to mind. I don't think anything shy of a full darkspawn horde could distract me.

"Just that Jowan _was_-as in isn't any longer-absolutely terrified of the dark when he was eleven."

"Oh. Dear."

She winces. "Yeah. He wasn't happy. Wouldn't even talk to me for two days, and I can't really blame him. He did get me back, though."

"Really?"

"After the two days of him not talking to me, I, um, found a bloody _huge_ spider on my pillow. Maker, did I ever _scream_. 'Cause I was, and actually still am, scared of spiders. I think the templars must've thought someone was turning into an abomination, with how fast they were in the room."

"Wow," I laugh.

"I knew how it got there. And I did deserve it. And Jowan even apologized first. Which made me feel like a heel, because I knew, much as spiders scared me, dark scared him more, so I apologized, too. And we were right back to being best friends, like nothing ever happened. I have to admit to being slightly envious he got over being afraid of the dark soon after that while I'm still scared of spiders," she confesses, rubbing the back of her neck. "I still scream whenever I see one. Gabriel teases me about it all the time."

"If it helps any, I'm almost ridiculously claustrophobic," I offer. "Comes from accidently locking myself inside a trunk when I was five and screaming myself nearly hoarse before I got Soris' attention."

"Now, who's Soris? You've mentioned him twice now. He your brother?"

I shake my head. "Close. He's my cousin. Sure was _like_ my brother growing up, though. Got in all kinds of messes together, teased each other about everything and anything, indulged in the occassional mud fight." I smirk. "I usually won."

"I'll bet," she needles, grinning.

**oOo**

We talk a while longer, about all sorts of things, everything from more about Jowan, to me telling stories about me and Soris, to what she can remember of her family before she came to the tower. I hear the wistful note in her voice as she talks about her mother and sister.

"Khal and I were really close. I mean, we each had a best friend from another family, but she was like my...anchor, the one I could count on to still be _there_ when things went wrong. If Toli and I got in a fight, or one of the boys teased me-there weren't many elves this dark in my Alienage-or whatever, she was there to help me feel better. Even if all I needed to do was cry and pour out whatever was bothering me. But the templars found me when I was five, after I froze a guard who'd been harrassing Toli." She shrugs. "I haven't seen any of them since."

"Mm. Did you go looking for them after you joined the Wardens?" I know I wanted nothing more than to check on my family after Ostagar, a drive that only intensified after our first visit to Denerim revealed the Alienage was barricaded and they weren't letting anyone in.

She shakes her head. "With the conditions in our Alienage, they're probably dead. Khal or Toli may be slave to some twisted noble, and I don't want to see that."

"Guess I can understand that."

"Besides, after I got to the tower, I had a new anchor, and he was that more than twice as long as Khal was."

"Jowan?" I guess, fairly confident that I'm right.

Miri nods. "Uh-huh. Another reason it was so easy to forgive him. When someone's your anchor, you don't want to lose them."

"Yet another thing I understand, unfortunately from the perspective of someone who lost said anchor," I mutter, thinking of Alistair.

"What do you mean?" Miri shakes her head. "Sorry. I shouldn't pry. You barely know me."

"S'alright. The man I love died fighting the archdemon." The present tense 'love' was very much on purpose; I'm not _that_ far over him yet.

From her arched eyebrow, I think Miri can tell. "Would this be the other Grey Warden who stuck the killing blow on the archdemon?"

"Mm-hm." I nod, privately elated I don't burst into tears. "We knew it could happen. I'd been warned countless times what duty might demand. It still hurt, like someone ripped my heart clean out of my chest."

"You don't have to tell me, you know," Miri says softly. "I don't expect you to when we just met last night." She offers a small smile. "And my duty has yet to demand that much from me."

"And I hope it never does." I mean it. I wouldn't wish what I went through after losing Alistair on anyone. And everything points toward me and Miri becoming excellent friends, so that goes double for her. I hope and pray she never loses Gabriel, but especially not like _that_.

"So do I." She looks out at the shadows tracing over the walls of the fortress and sighs. "And now I need to go meet Gabriel. I promised." She tucks her book under one arm and stands.

I scramble to my feet as well. "Well, I enjoyed talking to you."

Miri chuckles as we walk back in the direction of the library together. "The feeling's mutual. I have to admit, _finally_ being able to tell those stories was fun. Everyone at the tower already knew what happened, so I never actually got to tell them."

"Ah, I see. Wait, does that mean I didn't really need to bribe you?" I look sideways at her.

She attempts to look innocent and fingers the edge of her book. "Maaaaybe." The innocent look turns to a smirk. "Okay, I probably would have told you any way. But, look at it this way: giving me chocolate is a very good way to stay on my good side and not end up frozen to a wall or something."

I have to laugh. "Miri, I've arrived at a decision."

She tugs open the door between the main fortress and the aeries. "What?"

"I like you. And I think we should be friends, even if it's only to drive Jowan _crazy_."

"I like the way you think, Rahna." She makes a face and shakes her head. "But I don't think I could be _that _mean to Jowan."

"Oh, I couldn't either, at least not on a regular basis. But we could just drive him crazy every once in a while. Y'know, for special occassions."

She considers this as we walk before nodding. "_That_ I could do." We're both silent for a few steps before she speaks again. "Rahna, are...are you worried? About tomorrow?"

"You mean the Joining?" I sigh and nod, feathering one hand through my hair. "Terrified. I've...I've seen enough death, lost enough people I care about. I don't want to lose any more."

Miri bites her lip. "There were four others at my Joining. Two of them didn't make it. I don't want to watch that again, especially...especially if he doesn't make it."

"I'm rather petrified of that idea myself. Unfortunately, I think I have to be there. Because of who I am and all."

"Oh, the whole Hero of Ferelden thing?"

I nod and reach for the door handle to the library. "Yeah. So now I have to go. My heart's gonna be in my throat the whole time, though. Seeing _anyone_ dying like that will be horrible enough, but I especially don't want to see_ Jowan_-" I shudder, leaving the sentence unfinished, and shake my head. "Let's not talk about, hm?"

She nods. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

**oOo**

Gabriel's in the library, sitting sideways in a chair and completely engrossed in the book he's reading.

"Lose track of time, love?" Miri teases, stepping up behind him and tugging gently on his hair.

"Huh?" He looks up at her.

She takes advantage of the way his head's tipped back and swoops down for a kiss.

_"Swooping is bad..."_ I smirk and bite back a laugh at the voice echoing in my head. _Not always, Alistair. You didn't seem to mind too much, either._ "I think I'll just leave you two alone," I mutter, feeling the jealous twinge again as I turn and leave. I need to go start psyching myself up for the Joining tomorrow, anyway.

**oOo**

There are eight recruits taking the Joining, counting Jowan. He's the only mage. There are three other men, all of them look like warriors, a woman who looks like a rogue-probably an archer, an elf who's probably also a rogue, if the knives in his belt are any indication, and two dwarves, one covered in tattoos, the other not. They also look like they're warriors, but dwarves are built...sturdier than elves, so I could be wrong about that.

Once everyone necessary is in the room, the recruits in a loose circle in the middle and the Senior Wardens standing along the walls-I try not to think about why they're fully armed-the First Warden begins by speaking the starting words. My heart starts pounding with the first syllable. "Join us, brothers and sisters..."

_Maker, please don't let Jowan die._

"Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn..."

_I don't want to lose one more person I care about. _

"And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten..."

_First Nelaros dies, then Alistair, then Zevran left to go back to Antiva...Jowan's the best friend I have at the moment._

"And that one day we shall join you." The traditional beginning said and done, the First Warden nods to the Senior Warden holding the Joining chalice. He approaches the first recruit, one of the warriors.

"From this moment forth, Andrew, you are a Grey Warden." The blond man drinks, staggers, and crumples to the ground.

"He lives."

The second warrior, a huge, dark haired man I suspect is Rivani, fares the same; drinks from the goblet, sways, and collapses.

Again, "He lives."

I feel the adrenaline racheting up my heart rate and wish Jowan had been first as I curl sweaty hands into fists. _Maker, I'm going to be insane from this tension._

The Senior Warden hands the goblet to the woman. "From this moment forth, Teresia, you are a Grey Warden."

I know. Before she even hands the chalice back to the Senior Warden, I can tell what's going to happen. The sound of her choking echoes through the chamber, ricocheting off remorseless stone walls that have witnessed this ritual times beyond counting. _Sweet Andraste..._

Regret in his eyes-I can see it from clear across the room-the Senior Warden extends the chalice to Jowan. He takes it, and our eyes meet across the room.

I nod, trying to hide the dread worming its way into my heart. Once you're this far, there's no turning back. Duty demands it. You leave as either a Grey Warden or a corpse.

Jowan nods in response, takes a deep breath...

I feel what exists of my fingernails dig into my palms as my hands ball into even tighter fists. _Sweet sodding Maker, __**please**__..._

...and drinks.

_A/N: Whew...Maker, the Joining was hard to write... anyhoo, sorry I'm A)cutting it off there(it was getting long. Okay, I also enjoy the occassional evil-beyond-belief cliffhanger) and B)slightly late posting. I blame the difficulty writing the Joining, a family Christmas party last night, and Fenris. I swear, the discussion thread about him on the BSN is the first one I've religiously followed. =P I could not concentrate on writing until I had caught up on the thread. Sorry._


	38. If You Should Perish

38. If You Should Perish...

_"Alistair, why does the Joining kill some people but not others?" The two of us are sitting by the campfire, keeping an eye on the bubbling pot of stew._

_"You know, I don't really know," he admits sheepishly. "I've only been a Warden six months myself, remember, Rahna."_

_"Didn't Duncan tell you __**anything**__?" I persist as my mabari noses under my hand and I idly stroke his head._

_"He talked a bit about what being a Warden would require, but I was so happy to be away from the Chantry, I...may not have cared. Which means I wasn't really listening. One thing I do vaguely remember him saying, though, was that the taint kills all Grey Wardens, and some faster than others."_

_"So, it does thirty years' worth of deterioration inside five seconds for some people?" My hand stills on Dog's head as I frown at Alistair, remembering Daveth. The mabari whines and nudges me into continuing._

_He nods. "That's the way I understand it, at least. Remember, junior member of the order."_

_"Well, actually, you're now the most senior Fereldan Warden," I point out with a grin. "But is that the reason there's the line about 'if you should perish' in the starting words? For those who don't survive?"_

_Another nod. "The taint will claim us just like it claimed them. Just slower."_

**oOo**

I take a deep breath and rap on the wooden door. "Miri?" There's no immediate answer, and I curse under my breath before knocking again. "Miri?"

"You can come in." Her voice is muffled by the door. I take another deep breath and swallow hard as my fingers curl around the handle and I swing the door open. She's sitting at the small desk crammed in the corner of her room by the window when I enter, losing herself in her book again, the blue ribbon marker twined between her fingers.

"The Joining's done," I inform her.

At those three words, she whirls around, something in her eyes..._breaking_ when she sees that I'm alone. "No."

Her whispered denial almost makes _me_ break, but I have to see this through. My hands fidget in a gesture of sheer reluctance. "I'm sorry, Miri..."

"...but you still have to put up with me," Jowan finishes, stepping into the room.

Miri lets out a strangled shriek that sounds torn between 'Oh-thank-the-Maker' and 'Sweet-_Andraste_-I'm-going-to-_**kill**_-you-two' as she jumps up. Her chair clatters against the stone floor and she slams into Jowan hard enough he has to take a step back to keep her from knocking him over. "Evil! You two are_** evil**_!"

"It was his idea!" I can't help chuckling as she glares at him.

"Hey!" Jowan protests, "Was not! This was _your_ idea!"

"Well, you didn't do a thing to talk me out of it!" I shoot back

"I should kill both of you," Miri grouses. "That was a dirty trick." She reaches up and smacks the back of Jowan's head.

"Dirtier than the time a certain thirteen year old elf tried to make me think she'd been 'accidentally' turned into a rat during a casting lesson?" he grins.

Miri blushes in reponse to Jowan's 'Gotcha-there-don't-I?' look. "That was Anders' idea!"

He just keeps giving her That Look. "Your point?"

"Okay, okay, we're even," she caves. "Maker, don't ever scare me like that again."

"I think I can promise that," he concedes. "Rahna?"

"Same," I agree. "No more scares like that."

"So, then tell me what happened," Miri demands, tugging us both over to sit on her bed.

So we tell her, starting from the beginning all the way through the immediate aftermath of the Joining.

**oOo**

_"He lives."_

_The breath trapped in my lungs rushes out in relief at the Senior Warden's words, my heart returning to a more normal rate. I still refuse to unclench my fists, lest someone notice how my hands are shaking from adrenaline letdown. I didn't know until now how much the idea of him not making it scared me. Of course it would have hurt, and I would have hated losing another friend, sure, but I didn't expect this deep, soul-shaking, almost irrational __**terror **__at the idea of him dying. The fact that he didn't, that he's still alive, leaves me trembling with relief._

_There are four left after him. As each recruit raises the chalice to their lips, you can almost hear all the Senior Wardens inhale a sharp breath. The archer's death was a brutal reminder of the immediate price paid by some._

_Maker forgive me, I can't bring myself to care much. I'm just happy Jowan survived. Selfish, yes, but he's the best friend I've got right now. And I'd hate to have to tell Miri he was dead. I can just picture what she'd be like when she got mad, thanks to what Jowan's told me. Ice spells everywhere, mass chaos, that kind of thing._ But you don't have to worry about that, because he didn't die, _I remind myself as imagining sends my heart pounding in my ears. _Calm down. He made it. _That's when the first wobbly grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. _He sodding **made** it. _Jowan's a Grey Warden now._

_The First Warden taps my shoulder and hands me something. "Give him this when he comes around."_

_"Of course." I nod, my hand closing around the familiar-shaped pendant. My own Warden's Oath still hangs around my neck, the cord twisted together with the one for the amulet. I cross the room and crouch near the wall, leaning back to let it help support me as I wait for Jowan to wake up._

_It seems to take __**forever**__ for his eyes to open, and I wonder if this is how Alistair felt after my Joining. When he finally does come to, I push off the wall to offer him a hand up. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens."_

_"Thanks, Rahna." He rubs at his forehead to banish the remaining wisps of what I know he saw. _

_"Here. We all wear these." I hand him his Warden's Oath and explain the reason we wear them as we leave the room._

**oOo**

"You have it on?" Miri asks Jowan.

"'Course I do, Mir," he replies, pulling down the collar of his shirt to show her.

She lets out a muffled 'meep' noise when she sees the other necklace he's wearing. "You still have this?" She gives the pewter medallion a gentle tug.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. I guess I thought you might've...gotten rid of it. Sold it so you could buy food or something. I know what fire enchantments are worth."

Jowan snorts in disbelief. "Mir, _you_ gave me that. I would've sooner gone hungry than sell something my best friend gave me." From the look in his eyes, I think that's exactly what happen on more than one occassion. That would explain his only offering it a a last resort to avoid using blood magic back near Hafter's Bend.

"Still...I'm glad you still have it," she comments, before steering back to the topic at hand. "So, with the Joining, was the archer the only one we lost?"

"Unfortunately, no." I shake my head. "The last of the humans and one of the dwarves didn't make it, either."

"Three dead?" she shudders.

"Out of eight." I shrug. "I hate to sound callous, but it could have been much worse," I point out, thinking of how I was the only one to survive at my Joining.

"I know. Still, to lose almost half...and I probably knew some of them. Or if I didn't, Gabriel did."

"Did what?" the red-haired warrior asks, leaning around the doorframe almost as if cued.

"Know the recruits who didn't survive the Joining," Miri explains, scooting a little closer to me so Gabriel can sit next to her.

"Who didn't make it?" Gabriel asks me.

"An archer, human, I think her name was Teresia, a man who looked like a Rivani warrior-"

"With dreadlocks or no?" Gabriel interrupts.

"No. And one of the dwarves, the one without all the tattooes."

He swears in Orlesian, causing Miri to raise an eyebrow. "Werren didn't make it?"

"He is...?"

"The dwarf." Gabriel drags a hand through his hair in frustration. "Everyone was sure he'd survive, be one of the best Wardens in the history of the Order. He and I practiced together a lot. But Dustan made it?"

"Dustan would be?"

"The other dwarf."

I nod. "He did. I admit, I wasn't really paying attention after I knew Jowan made it, but the dwarf with all the tattooes survived."

"That's good. 'Tan's a skilled enough warrior in his own right. And Andrew and Kiran made it?"

"I'm going to assume Kiran's the Rivani with dreads? Yes. They both made it. And so did the elven rogue. I can't remember his name, though."

"Arrik, I think," Miri chips in.

"Mm. I'll take your word for it. And I think I'm going to go back to my room now. Stare at the ceiling and bore myself out of my mind to calm down. Or something like that. The Joining far exceeded the usual amount of excitement and worry I allow in a day's time," I comment as I push myself off Miri's bed and head for the door. _Besides, I figure you two probably want to talk..._

Gabriel leaves just behind me. "I'm meeting one of the other Wardens for a practice match," he explains. "I was just curious what Miri was up to. I hadn't seen her yet today."

"Well, good luck with your match." I smile. "I hope you win."

"I hope I do, too," he replies with a wry grin. "Kiv always beats me, though. I don't know how he does it... I have to admit, I miss sparring with Keenan."

"Uh, Gabriel, remember, I've been here two days. I don't know who these people are," I point out.

"Both of them are rogues, Kiv is a sneaky little bastard who can uses shadows that hardly even exist to hide from you and strikes when you least expect it. Keenan was a little more...well, obvious feels like the wrong word. He couldn't go bloody invisible at will. We're friends, of a sort, and we fought practice matches a lot, so I could stay in practice against rogues and he could against warriors. But he's stationed at Jader, so I haven't seen him in almost a year." Another wry smile. "Maker, he seems like positively easy fight, now that I have to practice with Kiv."

"Well, then, double those wishes for good luck," I laugh.

"Thanks, Rahna. I'll still end up with a multitude of scrapes and bruises for Miri to heal, I'm sure." He grins. "Not that I mind _that_ much."

"No, I'd imagine you don't," I smirk. "See you around."

He nods and heads for the practice area. I slowly make my way back to my room, where I climb on the bed and simply stare at the ceiling. I was serious about needing to do something _boring_. The amount of worry and adrenaline brought on by the sodding Joining is worse than a full ten minutes of combat. And it's worse when you know someone taking it as well as I know Jowan. My heart rate was still on the verge of too fast the whole time we were talking to Miri. Of course, that may be due to wondering if she was going to kill us for that little bit of evilness.

I don't know how long I've been laying here, staring at the ceiling and not thinking about anything in particular when someone raps on the doorframe.

I know who it is before I even look. "You can come in, Jowan." I sit up, repairing my smashed pigtails with an absent-minded tug. The memory of my promise from yesterday gently nudges the back of my mind. _Maker forgive me, I'm only talking about __**that**__ if he remembers and brings it up._ "What's up?"

He sits on the edge of the bed as I fold my legs under me. "Remember you said you'd tell me what you meant by Alistair doing 'the important part' to end the Blight after the Joining?"

_Drat. I was hoping he'd forget._ "Yeah. I needed to wait because it involves a pretty big Warden secret, so you had to actually be a Warden for me to tell you."

"Ah. Care to tell me now?"

I really do owe him, I have no good reason not to tell, with all he's told me and how long I've made him wait. I know _I_ would have died of suspense by this point. But part of me is still reluctant to tell him. It hurts still, even if it's not as much now as it was the first day after. But I owe him. "I guess so. It isn't long and drawn out or anything. First, the involved Warden secret. Grey Wardens are absolutely necessary to successfully end a Bight-despite what Loghain may have thought-because of the darkspawn blood we drink," I explain, hearing Riordan's voice echo in my head. "If anyone other than a Grey Warden kills an archdemon, the spirit of the Old God inside it will just transfer to the nearest darkspawn, and we have to start all over."

"And if a Grey Warden kills it?" Jowan's expression is just as wary as mine was when Riordan was explaining to me and Alistair.

"Considering that we're not empty and soulless like darkspawn, there's nowhere really for the Old God's spirit to go. It's drawn to the taint in us and destroyed, but, in the process, so is the soul of the Warden who struck the killing blow." I take a deep breath. "When we were fighting the Blight, there was a third Grey Warden, Riordan, we rescued from Arl Howe's dungeon. He said he would strike the killing blow. He was the oldest, had been a Warden the longest, so that made sense. Nice, neat ending; he'd kill the archdemon and Alistair and I would be able to live happily ever after." I let out a mildly bitter chuckle. "Of course it couldn't be that easy, that perfect. Riordan died before he was able to strike the killing blow. I was all set to do it. I'd been pretty badly injured, was starting to get dizzy from blood loss, and besides, I'm a sodding _elf_. In the eyes of the general population of Thedas, I'm little more than gutter scrapings. It made more sense to me-"

"-But not to him?" Jowan asks softly.

I shake my head. "He wouldn't let me, Jowan. Granted, I couldn't have stopped him no matter how badly I wanted to, considering how much blood I'd lost at that point." The remembered words fill my mind until I'm practically back in that single desperate, panicked moment I realized I was losing him and I couldn't stop it.

_"Wait. Let me. There's no need for you to die..."_

_"...This is crazy!"_

_"Sanest thing I've ever done."_

"He...He said dying so I didn't have to was the sanest thing he'd ever done, kissed me one last time, and then he killed it." I shake my head. "Didn't strike me as particularly sane to put me through that when I thought about it later." My eyes stay on my hands rather than the mage listening to my story. "It hurt, horribly, for a very long time. I didn't even start to move on until we were near...um, Val Firmin, I think."

"Wow," Jowan mutters.

"Yeah." I look up and offer him a sheepish smile. "It's actually still a work in progress, if I'm honest," I admit.

"I know. I'm still working past Lily." He sighs.

I rest my hand on his arm. "I know. And, um, Jowan?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for listening."

_A/N: I apologize for the excessive amounts of evilness in which I indulged with the beginning of this chapter. I couldn't resist, not with Rahna chanting 'Do it! Do it! Do it!' in my head. xD But did you really, honestly think __**I**__ could kill __**Jowan**__? *shudders* The mere thought makes me panic. So, now that the Joining's out of the way...time to tie up loose end type things and wrap this up so I can move on the the sequel. :D Hoping to have just two more chapters for an even forty, then start in on the sequel the week after that. But that's just a rough plan, and we all know what Rahna's like with my plans..._


	39. Boredom

39. Boredom

Despite my grumblings about how 'I'm staying put for at least two months once we reach Weisshaupt', I'm starting to feel that familiar boredom buzzing in the back of my mind after only three weeks. _I can't believe this..._If someone had asked me if I thought I'd get bored of having a break, and a well-deserved one at that, I'd have laughed. But now...

I guess some of us-like me, unfortunately-are just not happy without something to _do_; something that needs saving, or fixing, or whatever. I sigh and collect my swords from where they lay on top of the storage trunk in the corner of my room. I need to find Kiv. He's proven to be one of the few remotely challenging sparring partners in this place, since they won't let warriors or rogues practice with the mages. Granted, that might be because there's all of five mages here. We really don't want to risk hurting them. Though I can't help but wonder what would happen if I were to take on Jowan or Miri. Just pure, honest to goodness curiosity how it would end.

I smirk as I head toward the practice area, hoping Kiv's already down there. He practically _lives_ to duel, and I'm just about the only person who can beat him. Gabriel managed to beat him a couple days ago, a feat that made him ridiculously proud. As I near the practice area, I can hear the sound of blades clashing together. _Please, please, please let Kiv be down here_.

"Rahna!" The First Warden startles me, and I barely manage to conceal the slight start as I turn to face him.

"Yes, ser?" I ask, giving him my full attention.

He takes in my swords and the edge of tension in my posture with one long, studied glance. "I'll need to see you in my office later."

"I can come now, if you need me to, ser. It's not like anyone's expecting me or anything."

He shakes his head, smiling slightly. "It can wait. You go ahead."

"Thank you, ser. Should I just come up after I finish?"

He nods. "Take a few minutes to catch your breath, then come."

"Yes, ser." I nod in acknowledgement before continuing to the practice ring.

**oOo**

When I reach the waist high fence that circles the practice ring, I lean against it with a grin as I watch the two elves in the middle go at it. One's Arrik, the rogue who had his Joining at the same time as Jowan.

And the other one, also a rogue, the one kicking his ass, is Kiv. Just as I'm leaning against the fence, he slams both of his swords against Arrik's long knives as hard as he can, whirls to the side, and sweeps the blond elf's feet out from under him in a move that reminds me so strongly of Zevran it almost hurts. Arrik lands on his back with a grunt and a small cloud of dust. In the second it takes him to catch his breath, Kiv's blades are crossed over his throat and the wiry, dark haired elf is smirking down at him.

"Yield."

Arrik lets his head fall back against the ground with a frustrated groan. "Blast it, Kiv, that's two in a row," he grumbles as he accepts the offered hand up. He lets out a wry chuckle. "I suppose I should stop trying."

"You are a very skilled fighter, Arrik." Kiv chuckles. "However, I am still better. Simple experience, my friend. I have five years of practice on you, a veritable lifetime in this line of work."

"True," Arrik admits as he heads toward the fence. He nods in greeting when he sees me. "Rahna."

I grin and nod back. "Arrik."

Kiv turns to grin at me when he hears us. "Come for another workout, Rahna?"

I laugh. "I have indeed. Plan to make it an actual challenge this time?"

A teasing wince creases his tan face. "Oh, so harsh," he chuckles, twirling his swords around his hands. "And when I'm already worn out."

I shake my head as I duck between the fence rails. "Two matches with Arrik? He's good, but not _that_ good. I'm sure you have plenty of energy left."

Another chuckle as Kiv swipes the back of one wrist against his forehead. "Too true." Almost faster than thought, he's suddenly much closer than he was before, his sword swinging down toward my head. I let instinct take over and dodge to the side, my own swords sliding free of the sheaths with a quiet rasp.

The one thing I have to admit about him is that he is truly a master of using the slightest bit of cover, the fainest hint of a shadow to disappear completely. It's almost uncanny, and still throws me off at times. Not enough that he's ever beaten me, but he's come close a couple times. Very close.

And when he seems to vanish into thin air halfway through our duel even as I swing at him, I swear to myself that this will not be another of those times. I tighten my grip on the hilts of my sword, biting my lip as I wait, straining for the faintest sense of where he is.

I feel _something_, like the vaguest of whispers on the edge of my consciousness, off to my left, and I spin in that direction just in time to block the twin strikes aimed at my stomach.

"You've gotten better at that," Kiv comments, a slight rasp of exertion creeping into his voice.

"I've had lots of opportunity to practice," I shoot back, parrying his strike with one blade, while making a strike of my own with the other. While his attention is held by having to do two things at once, I make a sweep at his legs, much like his against Arrik, only I aim higher up. So when he jumps to avoid it, my boot slams into his calf and throws him off-balance enough he still lands on the ground.

He rolls instantly to the side, but Topsider's Honor is still waiting for him, the point a couple inches from his eye, when he reaches his knees. Kiv slides one of his swords under the blade and pushes upward, shoving me backward. I recover in time to block the attack I know is coming, shoving against his sword hard enough he stumbles back into a corner of the fence.

With Topsider's Honor just touching his throat, and my other sword resting against his chest, he doesn't really have a choice. His arms drop to his sides as he pants, "I yield."

I back off, grinning. "Good match." I pull in a couple deep breaths of my own. "Short, but good."

Kiv rmatches my grin. "That's what happens when you have two such unevenly matched combatants."

"Oh, you're not _so_ much worse than I am," I assure him. "And that little vanishing trick of yours makes up for a large part of what gap there is between our skill levels."

"Thanks. You flatter me." We both lean against the fence and let silence reign for a long moment before he breaks it again. "Tell me something, Rahna."

"Mm?" I brush back sweaty strands of hair as I look over at him. I have a few minutes to catch my breath before reporting to the First Warden's office.

"Why do you spar so much? I mean, I know I do it because I love the rush that only combat can give, whether it be combat with a darkspawn intent on removing me from the world of the living or a match against a comrade-" he nudges me with his elbow and rakes his curly hair off his forehead- "to keep our skills sharp. But why do you spar?"

I sigh. "In truth? Because I'm bored." I can't help but laugh at the irony of that fact. "I'm just _bored_, Kiv. Maker, I spent the last two weeks of the trip here swearing I wasn't going anywhere or doing anything for two months when we got here. And here I've been here less than a month and I'm already bored almost out of my mind." I shake my head ruefully. "I guess I'm one of those people who has to be doing something, fixing something, _saving_ something to not feel so..._restless_."

"Well, considering the circumstances of your joining the Wardens, the Blight and all, I mean, it doesn't surprise me," Kiv points out. "You've been battling darkspawn and saving civilizations since day one. It only make sense that now, with things slowed down, you're going to feel restless and bored."

That makes so much sense, it kind of scares me. "Well, maybe I'll find someplace that needs saving sometime soon. There _were_ still darkspawn in Ferelden after the Blight was ended. Maybe I'll go hunt all of them down or something." I push off the fence. "But right now, I have a meeting with the First Warden. Sounded like it was something pretty sodding important, so I don't really want to keep him waiting."

Kiv nods in understanding. "Good plan. I'll see you around, Rahna."

"Yep. Next time I kick your tail," I tease.

"You probably will. But it's still fun, and there's no shame in losing to you, you being a bloody hero and all."

I snort a half laugh in acknowledgement as I duck through the fence and head for the First Warden's office. Kiv doesn't know about my ridiculously strong aversion to being called a hero. Of the people at Weisshaupt, only Jowan knows. Miri knows I feel like I don't deserve it, but not how much I hate it.

And I want to keep it that way.

**oOo**

I get lost twice on the way to the First Warden's office. This is still a sadly common occurrence, one I know Zev would tease me about just as much as Jowan does if he were here rather than in Antiva. You would think, after being here for three weeks, I'd be past this, but no. I still have wander around like a green recruit until someone takes pity on the directionally-challenged Hero of Ferelden and tells me where to go. I'm actually heartened by the fact I only spend ten minutes of wandering before I stumble onto a passage that looks familiar. In fact, I can see the First Warden's study about five doors done the hall. _Now __**that's**__ some sodding luck_, I grin to myself as I head for the doorway.

The First Warden is talking to someone when I reach his office, a tall man with a shaved head and a warrior's build. I use this opportunity to fix my pigtails, which are on the verge of falling out, as I wait for them to finish. The man paces the floor of the First Warden's office, and I catch a glimpse of his profile. _That's Vincent._ Confusion and curiosity crease my face. _What's he doing in there?_ Vincent and his sister Ashe are some of the best warriors in the Warden's ranks, maybe _the_ best when they work as a team, so why does the man look for all the world like he's being yelled at? _It may just be an assignment he doesn't want_, I remind myself, even as Vincent sighs, runs one hand over his head, and nods acquiesence to whatever the First Warden is telling him. He leaves the room, giving me only a cursory nod of acknowledgement as he passes. I quirk an eyebrow at that before I step up to the doorway of the office. "Ser?"

"Ah, Rahna, come in. How did your duel go?"

I shrug as I enter the room. "Kiv's a challenge, but he's not quite as good as me." I take a deep breath and nibble my bottom lip for a moment. "Ser, if I may, what's bothering Vincent?"

"What do you mean?" He eyes me warily.

"I mean, if you don't mind telling me, why did he look so thoroughly unhappy when he left?" I fidget with my hair as I wait for a reply.

"He's...less than pleased with the assignment I gave him. I got a letter from the Senior Warden in the Free Marches, asking if we can spare any Wardens to bolster their garrison. I decided to have him and Ashe take a small group in answer to their request."

"Oh. That makes sense." The Free Marches is a sodding long walk from here. The way the First Warden's looking at me makes me uncomfortable, like there's something coming I'd rather not hear. _Life is either about to get a lot **less** boring or a lot **more** boring._

"What?"

He sighs. "You're probably not going to like this. The Senior Warden requested mages especially..."

_Oh, sod, no!_ I know where this is going, and he's absolutely right; I don't like it one bit.

"...so I'm sending Miri and Jowan with Vincent."

_A/N: We're almost there... I think for once, things are actually going to go "according to plan"! With how many times Rahna's derailed/sidetracked/altered my plans for a given chapter, that's a big deal. Maybe she knows something I don't about this sequel and is eager to get to it. That would explain her being such a very good girl and not throwing me a curveball. XD_


	40. Fighting Dirty

40. Fighting Dirty

_Miri __**and**__ Jowan? Sweet Maker, what did I do to deserve this?_ I let a wry smile curve my lips. "You're absolutely right, ser. I don't like this. At all. Why them?"

"They already know each other, they work well together, and I figure they'll make a good team. They've also proven to be open to correction and instruction, which will make the mage already there happy."

All very sound, very true, reasoning. But that doesn't make me like it. To not have Jowan or Miri around to talk to sounds like he's trying to punish me or something. "Alright, that makes sense." I chew my bottom lip for a moment. "If you're going to send Miri and Jowan to the Free Marches, could I go as well?" I know I can't get him to not send them, he has too many solid reasons for doing so to leave them here just because I'll be lonely. But maybe I can go, too.

"No. I...may need you for another assignment; an important one. I should have confirmation within a week or so either way, but I can't risk sending you off and then needing you for this."

"What is it?" He's piqued my curiosity now, enough that I'll temporarily let this sending Jowan and Miri to the Free Marches thing slide.

"I can't tell you until I'm sure you'll be needed."

I hate the secrecy surrounding all thing Grey Warden. It's enough to make even a marginally curious person explode, and I am nothing if not more than marginally curious. But there's not really anything I can do except nod in understanding of the way things have to be, promise to go wherever I'm needed-a Grey Warden's life is sacrifice, after all-and leave the study. _So all he wanted to talk to me about was to be prepared to leave if they need me somewhere? It was just a 'This-may-be-coming-so-be-ready'? Thanks ever so much, ser,_ I grumble mentally as I head in what I hope is the direction of my room.

**oOo**

I get lost, as usual. It gives Kiran a good laugh when he finds me in the completely wrong wing of the fortress and has to help me find where I intended to go. I let him go about his business when we reach a point where things start to look familiar. No need to prolong the embarrassment caused by my horrid sense of direction.

I'm so lost in mentally grumbling about losing the company of pretty much everyone I consider my friend that I almost run into one of said friends.

"Rahna, we've really got to work on this habit of yours," Jowan teases as he grabs my arm to keep me from running into him.

"Oh, hush," I grumble, feeling my face color. "So what were you up to?" I delay my plans to change-and wash off the sweat from my duel with Kiv-in order to follow Jowan into his room and further harrass him. _Hey, if he's gonna have to leave soon, I want to spend as much time with him as possible_.

"Oh, Miri and I were, um, practicing." He drops on his bed and stares at the ceiling, crossing his arms behind his head.

I sit on the edge of the bed next to him and tug something out of his hair. "And this is from...?" I smirk, curling my hand around the small piece of ice.

His face shades slightly red and he rolls his eyes. "Let's just say Miri's always been better at primal spells than me, and that hasn't changed."

I giggle as the ice melts in my hand. "What, did you two actually use them on each other?"

"We have to practice with live targets somehow..."

I shake my head. "So they won't let the people who uses swords and axes practice against the mages because it's too dangerous and there's too few of you, yet you can attempt to kill each other with fire and ice, and they're okay with that?"

"Just for the record, I didn't use any fire spells," he protests, rolling onto his side and propping his chin on his hand. "They're too hard to make not-deadly. Ice is a little easier. And, um, they may not've known we were doing it," he mutters sheepishly.

"Ah-ha. I see. Were you two this bad at the tower?"

"Worse. And it's always _her_ fault, too," he retorts with a grin. "I've always had trouble telling her no, and that goes double now."

"Why?" I shift position to fold my legs under me.

"Because, Rahna, I have two friends in the entire world: you and her."

"Mm. I guess that does make sense," I mutter, my mind starting to drift to what the First Warden told me.

"I know that look. What's wrong?" Jowan sits up and leans against the wall behind the bed.

I sigh, not sure if I'm allowed to tell him or not. _Well, they're talking like 'leave tomorrow', so I don't see what it could hurt..._"Just something the First Warden said."

"What?" Jowan flicks back a piece of hair drifting free of his ponytail.

An even bigger sigh rushes out. "They need more Wardens in the Free Marches. Particularly mages." I make a face as I watch the understanding flicker in his eyes. "The First Warden decided to send Miri...and you. Said you two work well as a team."

"All those years of practicing together, I'd hope so," Jowan mutters. "But why can't you come too?"

I shrug. "Some important possible assignment. Well, he made it sound probable, rather than just possible, but still. I'll miss you. And Miri."

"I'll miss you, too. And I can't say I'm all that happy about going to the Free Marches," he sighs, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Why? Aside from all the walking involved with getting there, I mean. I don't really know anything about the Free Marches," I point out.

"Well, I don't either, really," Jowan admits. "I've just heard the weather can get nasty, and I have no idea how people out there view mages." He sighs and rakes one hand through his hair. "Especially blood mages."

"Jowan, correct me if I'm wrong, but if you don't actually use blood magic in front of them, I don't think they'll even suspect that you _were_ a blood mage." I rest my hand on his arm. "And as for the other things, I think you're just being too pessimistic again. The Free Marches aren't that far north of Ferelden, so I can't imagine the weather being too much worse." I squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Which means you need to stop worrying," I order playfully.

"Rahna, you know I can no more do that than you can stop getting lost," he shoots back with a grin.

I toy with the idea of shoving him off the bed for that, but settle for a smack on the shoulder. "That, ser mage, was a low blow."

His grin widens. "But true."

I huff in exasperation, but can't really argue because it _is_ true, as I unfold my legs from under me and push off the bed. "I'm going back to my room now, before I retaliate in a manner I'll regret later," I tease, heading for the door.

"Don't get lost," Jowan needles with a chuckle.

"Alright, you asked for it!" I wheel back around, yank the pillow from behind his shoulders, and whack him over the head with it, giggling triumphantly when he yelps and tumbles off the bed.

"Rah-_na_!" He rubs his elbow and shoots me a mock glare. "What was that for?"

I smile sweetly. "I warned you." I hold out my hand. "Sorry if you hurt your arm, though."

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes as he takes my hand so I can help him up. "It just went numb for a second. I think it's fine."

"Good. Okay, I really am leaving this time." I can't help but grin as I leave the room, even if the thought occupying most of my mind is less-than-happy. _I'm __**really**__ going to miss him..._

**oOo**

The Wardens bound for the Free Marches leave two days later. After watching them until they disappear from view, Gabriel and I decide to take out our mutual frustration on each other in the practice ring rather than keep it all bottled up inside or letting it out on someone else, who wouldn't understand.

"Word of warning, I'm in the mood to use dirty tricks if the need arises," I caution.

Gabriel sighs, making sure his shield is firmly on his arm. "So am I," he mutters. The temper that had been directed at Jowan the day he and I arrived was unleashed-albeit in a more respectful form-on the First Warden when a certain Orlesian found that Miri was going. He had as much success changing the man's mind as I did, leaving him more than a little mad.

"Noted." I pull out my swords. "Ready when you are."

His sword rings free of the sheath and he lets out a cry of unbridled rage as he charges forward.

_Oh, wonderful...he's a sodding berserker._ From what I know of him, that makes sense, but berserkers are slightly harder to fight. They're less predictable than your average warrior. But I can be unpredictable, too.

I duck low and twist sideways at the same time, causing Gabriel to miss me entirely. My arm snaps backwards in an instinctive strike of my own and the blade clangs against his shield. I wheel around so I'm facing him again, just in time to cross my swords and block his strike. I dodge sideways, letting his momentum carry him past me so I can do what a rogue does best: strike from behind.

But Gabriel proves to be unpredictable in more ways than one. He pivots even before he's stopped moving forward and swings his shield at me. I can't get entirely out of the way fast enough, and it connects with my shoulder and throws me off balance.

_I need to get Kiv to teach me that vanishing trick of his..._ I grumble mentally as I fight to regain my balance.

Too slow. Warrior he may be, but Gabriel strikes fast-and dirty-as any rogue I've ever seen, me and Zev included. Two more blows from his shield leave my arm pretty much completely numb. _Oh, Maker... Not. Good._ I block with my good arm, grateful that's the one with the better sword at least, and make a clumsy strike at Gabriel's legs.

Against the odds, it's actually effective enough that he stumbles back. Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I take advantage of the opening, pressing the attack until Gabriel recovers enough to take another swing at me. He times it so perfectly part of me briefly wonders if he's precognitive or something, while the rest of me tries to decide whether ducking down will get me out of the path of his sword fast enough, or do I need to spin sideways? Since the latter would leave me wide open, I go with ducking, barely managing to get my head low enough. I take advantage of my stance and bull forward, ramming my good shoulder into his shield and pushing him backwards.

Gabriel responds by pounding his gauntlet-clad fist into my _bad_ shoulder. I grunt at the pain and retaliate in kind, kicking his bad knee as hard as I can.

_He was serious about fighting dirty... Wouldn't it just serve the First Warden right if Gabriel and I kill each other?_ I find some grim amusement in the thought, even as Gabriel whirls around, shoves his shield against my chest, and pins me against the fence surrounding the ring. I could kill _myself_ right about now. I stopped paying attention to how close the fence was. _Some rogue._

"Told you I'd fight dirty if I had to," Gabriel pants, wincing ever so slightly when he tries to put weight on his bad knee. A detail I don't fail to notice.

"Well," I swallow hard and take a fractional second to catch my breath. "So did I." I push against his shield, putting most of the force against the side with the bad leg. It works, and he stumbles backwards again, nearly falling this time. I push again, hooking my foot behind his knees. He lands with a grunt, instinctively raising his shield the second it's physically possible. Which proves to be much sooner than your average warrior _and_ just in time to block me from leveling a sword at his throat. I knock it aside-hard enough to be effective, not so hard I hurt his wrist; we're going to make the healers busy enough as it is-and angle Topsider's Honor so the steel just touches his skin.

"Alright, alright, you win," Gabriel mutters, gasping for breath.

"Good match. You almost had me," I tell him, breathing heavily myself as I rub my bad shoulder. "Let's get over to the healers."

"Good idea," he chuckles wryly.

**oOo**

It's a week later-a week I spend harrassing Kiv into teaching me that vanishing trick-that the First Warden tells me where I'm going. Where he needs me.

"Amaranthine?" My look screams 'You've-got-to-be-kidding-me' even if I don't say the words. Amaranthine's at the opposite end of Thedas; I was practically_ there _just a few months ago.

He nods. "Gabriel can travel with you as far as Jader; I'm allowing him to return to his post there. I'm sorry it's such a long journey, but the darkspawn problem seems to be most prevalent there. A contingent of Orlesian Wardens is already stationed at the fortress, but we want the Commander to be a Fereldan, for obvious reason. And seeing as you're not only a Fereldan Warden, but also the one who just saved the entire nation, you're a logical choice, _Commander_."

I stifle a groan. _Maker, why me? Why? _"Oh, yes, ser. That does make sense. When do we leave?" I am glad I'll have Gabriel's company for the majority of the trip back, at least.

"Is three days enough time to prepare?"

"Plenty, ser," I nod. "I'll tell Gabriel."

"Right. You may go."

I bow and leave the study. _Off to Amarathine. Lovely._ I guess it _is_ time for another adventure. Wasn't I just complaining about being bored? It won't be the same without Jowan and Zev along, but I'm sure I'll manage.

How hard can it be, right?

_A/N: Annnnnd that's the end, folks. On to the sequel! *cracks knuckles* Hopefully I'll have the first chapter up Tuesday of next week. What I having shaping in my head doesn't have too huge of a time jump at the start, just enough to not follow** all **the walking ahead of Rahna and Gabriel. Bleh. Poor them. 'Til next week! And thanks to all of you who have read/reviewed/favorited this story.*bows* Oh, extra special thanks to Hikari86 for helping with Italian related questions when I had them._


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